Master
by bookaddict98
Summary: Draco of House Malfoy, is the Heir to the crown of a powerful kingdom and getting ready to marry Lady Astoria. Until a new Lady-in-waiting is forced under his command. And soon he becomes obsessed with the feeling of being her Master and having her under him. Literally. (Warning: sensitive content)
1. Chapter 1

Draco got up from the sofa, bored out of his mind. He stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. The Kingdom of Aerglo extending far beyond his eyes could see, bathed in the darkness of the night. Draco could see the sea to the right, black as the night, and the shore. Waves stroking the land of his Kingdom. He closed his eyes, imagining the sea breeze. How powerful he felt while standing on his ship, only the blue ocean before him.

The voice of his mother brought him back to reality. He didn't understand why this issue couldn't wait until the sun had risen. But, there he was, in his mother's sitting room in her private chambers.

"Unacceptable!" Narcissa gasped, furious. "I can't believe this! Is he being punished?"

"He is locked up in the back dungeons, your Highness. He's going to be executed on Friday at the central plaza," Eirene informed.

Draco couldn't help but stare at the old woman, her hair gray after so many years living, hands wrinkled and green eyes tired. Eirene had tended Narcissa since she was just a child, never leaving her side. And she had taken care of Draco when he was younger. Even now that he was soon to become King after his marriage, Eirene still took care of his mother. Draco would never admit it, but he loved the old woman.

One of the servants had woken Draco up, his mother asking to speak to him immediately. His Manservant had been caught trying to escape after stealing. This was the fifth Manservant that had served Draco in the past year, none of them seemed to be fitting for the position. They all failed in serving the future monarch. Draco was tired of this. None of the servants that had been presented to him seemed to know how to do things properly.

"Good, we should not bother the King with a simple servant," Narcissa stood up, her silk nightgown falling loosely on her body. She paced up and down the room, anxious, but never leaving the elegant walk, proper of a Queen. "We have so many visitors coming in the upcoming weeks, House Nott will be here tomorrow, and House Greengrass will be here next week. We are sure going to be short of servants. And now my son doesn't have a Manservant. How improper, the Heir to the Crown without someone to tend him."

Draco stopped listening to his mother furious argument. His best friend will be here tomorrow, and here he was wasting sleeping time over something stupid.

"Just send another Manservant," Draco told Eirene nonchalantly, waving his hand. At the end of the day Draco was far too protective of his duties as Prince, and the Manservant was only useful to tend to him, get him dressed and carry his things.

"May I suggest, his Lordship, another alternative?" Eirene spoke softly, and Draco nodded, looking outside the window again. "As the last few Manservants weren't suited for his Lordship, I suggest a Lady-in-waiting."

"Impossible," Narcissa shook her head. "Where will you get a Lady-in-waiting before dawn? The ones that aren't serving me or the King are serving our visitors."

"There is, indeed, a girl that I believe is up to the task."

"Is she a servant? That would be improper, we need someone well educated. Someone that can help Draco in his daily life as well as his royal duties," Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

"She is not a servant, your Highness," Eirene whispered.

"Are you suggesting a Kitchenmaid to tend to my son?"

Narcissa was outraged by the suggestion, disgusted even. A simple Kitchenmaid, no more than scum, tending to her son. The Prince being followed around by a Kitchenmaid, what a scandal.

"I raised her myself, your Highness. She is well educated and knows how to behave. Her mother was an upstanding Lady-in-waiting for one of the King's allies."

"And her last name is?" Narcissa demanded.

"I'm afraid the girl doesn't have one, your Highness," Eirene looked down. Draco arched an eyebrow.

"So, you are suggesting a misbegotten Kitchenmaid to tend on the future King?" Narcissa was astonished. Her mouth hanging open.

"I would never suggest something that would harm her Ladyship or her son. I believe she is fit for the job," Eirene stared at Narcissa, who didn't like the idea of scum near her son. "She is not a slave, your Highness. She was born and raised here, not purchased nor imprisoned. Just give her an opportunity, your Highness. She will not let you down."

Narcissa exhaled, thinking. Eirene had devoted her whole life to take care of her, not once had she forgotten her duties. She was the closest thing to a mother that Narcissa ever had, her own mother too busy with royal duties to care for her children.

"Just send her to my chambers in the morning, I'll determine if she's able to fulfil the duties that are expected from her," Draco spoke with authority, annoyed by the situation. Eirene nodded and, with a bow, exited the Queen's Chambers. "Now, I am tired mother. I will see you in the morning."

Draco kissed his mother on the cheek, before walking down the hall and up the stairs to the other side of the castle where his chambers were.

* * *

When Eirene crossed the door that separated the castle from the servants' quarters and the kitchen, she raced down the stairs, as fast as her old legs would let her. Going down to the last floor where the Kitchenmaids and Houseslaves slept. Opening the last door to the left, she found five, of the many girls that were slaves in the castle, sleeping in the small room, wrapped in thin blankets on the floor. Eirene walked into the crowded room towards the girl that had been more like a daughter to her.

"Wake up," she whispered, shaking the girl's shoulder. Her wild and tangled curls covering most of her face. She opened her eyes, confusion written all over her face, but before she could ask what was happening Eirene spoke again. "Gather your belongings, don't leave anything behind."

The brown eyed girl grabbed the few items that were hers, all fitting in her arms. Eirene started walking up the stairs, and the girl followed a few steps behind. She saw saw how the girl shivered as her bare feet stepped up the stone stairs. They reached the top floor of the servants' quarters, and Eirene pushed the girl into an empty bedroom. The girl's eyes stared at the bed, she had not slept in a bed since she grew up too much to fit in Eirene's with her. Kitchenmaids weren't allowed such luxury.

"Well, we need to get you ready," Eirene said, pulling the dirty and thin nightgown off the girl's body. The sun had not yet risen, and she didn't understand why she needed to get ready, but not a single word left her lips.

Eirene pushed her to a bathtub, the water cold as ice. There was no time to warm it up. Eirene spent a good half an hour scrubbing the pale skin of the brown eyed girl until it was red, the water turning muddy with dirt. Kitchenmaids usually weren't allowed daily baths, not being anything more than slaves. But now she was not a Kitchenmaid, she was a Lady-in-waiting and had to look the part. The dirt was washed away as Eirene scrubbed even under her nails.

She wrapped the skinny girl in a towel and forced her to sit on a chair, applying lavender oil and combing her hair. The girl whimpered in pain as the comb pulled the knots out of her hair. Her wild curls slowly transformed into beautiful loose curls, reaching her waist. Eirene braided two locks of her hair, beginning near her temple and clipping them together behind her head. The copper barrette was shaped like a small lily.

"Nini, I don't understand," finally the girl spoke as Eirene spread lavender oil all over her body, hydrating her skin, leaving a healthy glow behind. The old woman couldn't help but feel her heart warming at the nickname the girl had given her since she learned how to talk.

"The time has come, Hermione. All these years I've spent teaching you how to speak and behave like a proper lady will come to use. You are going to have a better life, everything I wanted for you."

Her old, wrinkled hands pulled out a long light blue dress, extending it over the bed. It was embroidered in a darker shade of blue, forming an abstract pattern. Hermione gasped. She knew what kind of dress it was. Long dresses were reserved only for the higher rank servants, Ladies-in-waiting to be more precise. And it was light blue. Not red like the ones the Ladies that tended the Queen wore, not green like the ones that tended the King wore.

Stretching her arm, Hermione touched the cloth with the tips of her fingers. The soft cotton felt completely different compared with the rags she was used to wear. Eirene pulled the dress over her body. It was sleeveless, showing little cleavage and the skin of her back, a silver looking metal belt around her waist, and the skirt of the dress consisted of two layers of fabric that fell loosely down her hips, moving with every step. Perfect for the hot summer days that would soon come.

"My beautiful girl," Eirene cupped Hermione's cheek, smiling. "You are going to serve his Highness, the Prince."

"But how, Nini?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Her Highness has given you an opportunity after I persuaded her. Don't let me down, Hermione. I want you to be more than a Kitchenmaid. There's no better place than to be a Lady for his Highness. Maybe you will still tend to him when he becomes King."

She helped Hermione put her sandals on, applied balm to her lips with her index finger and clasped a thick silver bracelet on her wrist. The House of Malfoy's coat of arms engraved on the silver. The sun had risen, the sky slowly changing from orange to blue. Not a cloud in sight. Fear growing in the pit of her stomach, she was heading to the unknown, and Hermione's face reflected her fears.

Hermione wasn't allowed to speak to the Ladies and she had only admired them from the distance. Eirene had been very severe about her education. She would work all day in the kitchens, and at night Eirene would teach her three hours every night. How to speak properly, how to read and write, how to tend a Lord, how to behave, what to do and when to do it, getting the foreign slaves to teach her how to speak other languages. Everything since she was seven. And now, at nineteen years old, she was suddenly on the other side of the table.

"Don't speak unless you are spoken to. Don't forget to bow. Remember the way he does his morning ritual. He washes his hands first…" Eirene was reciting all the rules and what to do to Hermione, as they climbed up the stairs towards the Prince's Chambers. Hermione was carrying a silver tray with the things she would need for his morning ritual. She couldn´t help but stare in awe, never had she stepped into the palace. And it was bigger and more luxurious than she imagined. But then again, the _owners_ of the Kingdom lived inside those walls.

Eirene noticed the young girl's hands were shaking as they stepped into the west upper wing that served as the Prince's Chambers. These consisted in ten guest rooms, with two large bathrooms. Doors covering the long hall that led to a large sitting room with a private library and an office annexed to it. Servants were silently cleaning, getting everything ready before the Prince arouse. Eirene continued to explain what her duties were when those rooms were full. What was expected of Hermione when the Prince threw one of his _parties_ with his friends.

"His Highness best man will be arriving today before supper. And his Highness is planning on celebrating it with his closest friends," Eirene turned abruptly, Hermione almost bumped into her. The old woman grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, her green eyes staring into her brown ones. "I know that you may not like what you see or listen, especially at this… _unique_ parties. But you must vow silence. You serve the Prince, only. And you must protect his secrets. You can never let a word out of what you see, hear, read or do that concerns his Highness. Or you can be executed. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes open wide. Eirene continued to guide her. At the far wall of the sitting room, two large mahogany doors stood. Intricate design carved into them. Two gold letters, D and M, in the middle. Eirene squeezed her shoulder and pushed Hermione towards the doors, quickly leaving to fulfil her duties to the Queen.

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, she adjusted her posture, her head held high, just like Eirene had taught her. Glancing at the slaves quickly disappearing, into the server's door, which wasn't indistinguishable from the wall, she pushed the door.

She opened the right door, just enough to let her in. The room was dark, the curtains shut, and yet Hermione could distinguish the platinum blond hair, peeking under the covers of the bed (which could probably fit seven people).

* * *

Draco heard when the door clicked shut, behind the girl as she entered his bedroom. Pretending to be still asleep, he watched the girl's every move. The room was dark, and he couldn't see her factions, just a shadow of her figure walking around his room. She quietly placed the tray on a table, before opening his closet and pulling out the clothes she considered for him to wear. Impressed in a good way by her choice, he observed how she laid the suit over the fainting couch, brushing away any dust that could cover the clothes. None of his previous Manservants remembered to do this, and he was grateful.

She got everything ready for him without making a noise. Then, she walked over the glass doors, opening them to let the fresh air in, clipping the curtains at the sides so the warm sun illuminated the room. Draco could smell the ocean mixing with the flowery smell of summer. She walked over to the bed, standing a few feet away from him.

"Good morning, your Highness," she bowed, one leg behind the other, chin down.

"Morning," he stood up in front of her and lifted his arms.

Without pronouncing a single word more, the girl started to attend her duties. She stripped the nightgown off his body, leaving him in his underwear. Draco eyed her as he walked over to the dressing table and sat down. She poured warm water over his hands, cleaning them. Then, she soaked a cloth in warm water, running it over his face before applying shaving cream.

Draco noticed that she smelled like lavender mixed with wood and earth. Kind of what the forest smelled like. Her brows slightly frowned, as she dragged the razor blade softly over his skin. Her hair fell over her back, chocolate mixed with caramel. The cloth was over his face again, cleaning the excess of cream, her fingers careful. She grabbed a small tin and dipped two fingers into it.

But, before she could bring her fingers to touch his face, Draco grabbed her wrist so hard he could feel her bones cracking under his grip. He lifted his gaze, prepared to meet fearful eyes. But he didn't. Her amber eyes weren't scared, in fact, he could see her soul burning behind them.

"What are you doing?" he spat, angry. How dared she put something unknown on his skin?

"It will prevent your skin from getting irritated, Master," she spoke softly, but not a single trace of fear in her voice.

 _Master._ No one had ever called him Master. _Master._ He liked how the word sounded. He nodded and released her hand, letting her finish working on his skin before dressing him.

"You haven't stated your name, girl," the authority in his voice harsher than he intended. She was buttoning up his shirt, her skillful fingers careful not to touch his skin. She looked up, without lifting her face, between her eyelashes.

"Hermione, Master," she bowed after finishing dressing him, her full lips speaking.

The Prince scanned her from head to toe. She was beautiful, yes, like all the seventy or so Ladies tending the royal family. She looked just like them, long hair, well-kept skin and wonderful body. It was quite annoying, they all seemed to have stepped out of the same mold. But he noticed that her shoulders were covered in freckles and sun kissed. No proper Lady of the court would stand in the sun. He narrowed his eyes. Her hands were neat, but small scars covered them. And she didn't seem money or power hungry. She wasn't throwing herself at him, nor she looked scared. Her eyes burning with gold freckles. But then again, she was not a Lady, she was a Kitchenmaid trying to impersonate a Lady.

"Well, _Hermione_ , you are dismissed. I want you to have everything ready for tonight. You can send another servant in while you prepare for tonight, but I want you to be here in the sitting room when Lord Nott arrives."

"As you wish, master," she bowed and left the room, her lavender scent lingered in the air.

* * *

Draco was relaxed nonchalantly on one of the sofas, his feet on top of the coffee table. His right hand holding a large cup filled with wine, the other behind his head. It was already late at night. His best friend was laughing as the girls danced on top of him, and the Prince could not help but smile. His other friends enjoying the party as well. Many glasses of wine were drank, many half naked girls dancing for them, many others fucking them.

"If I'd known you would be waiting for me like this, I'd had come sooner," Theo said, pushing a girl in Blaise's lap. His dark-haired friend smiling, lustfully.

"I told you to come before Lady Greengrass came, she is coming next week," Draco said, watching as Blaise stood up, pushing two girls into his designated bedroom.

"I know that won't stop you from partying," Theo commented, looking around the room. "But I see you have saved a true beauty for yourself."

Draco followed his gaze. A few feet behind them, Hermione stood, quietly. Her amber eyes fixed on the carpet, hands clasped in front of her. She looked uncomfortable, trying not to watch as the gentleman in the room enjoyed the women before them.

"I didn't pick her. She looks like all the Ladies," he shrugged.

"Oh no," Theo shook his head, grinning and licking his lips. "She looks like she would put a fight in bed."

He lifted his eyebrows, eyes sparkling with mischief, while drinking his wine. Draco only rolled his eyes.

"Hermione, wine," Draco called, lifting his cup. The girl approached them, bowed and poured wine into their cups.

His gray eyes noticed that bruises were present where his fingers had clutched her wrist. Theo stopped her, before she could return to her spot. He grabbed her by the yaw, yanking her body so that she was leaning over him, face to face. He grinned, and she just clenched her jaw.

"Well, _Lady_ Hermione. Liking your new job?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Draco almost felt how she had pushed the words out her lips, her jaw clenched and her eyes burning brighter.

"Is Draco _good_ to you?" Theo pushed farther, teasing her. She had just been tending him for one day and Theo was already asking if he had fucked her. Draco snorted.

"My Master is very kind, my Lord," Hermione replied, not paying attention to the true meaning behind his words.

"Master, eh?" Nott mocked the name, and pushed Hermione away. She almost lost her balance, but quickly collected herself.

Draco was bored out of his mind and had already laid eyes on a girl swaying her hips on top of one of the tables. "Hermione, you are dismissed for the night," he said, gesturing the dancing girl to approach him. The curly girl, bowed and left the room, walking elegantly before closing the chamber's door behind her.

* * *

A/N: Hello guys! So this idea popped in my mind... and what better way to write it than a Dramione fanfic ;). Let me know what you think and if you would like to read more!

I know it looks kinda fluffy, but I like to write dark stuff. So tell me if you would like to read a uncensured fic, with dark and sensitive content (especially sex), or if you want me to keep it a little more PG-15. It won't be a mushy story, but I can censor it a bit.

Just to clarify the servants hierarchy 1. Lady of the court (Eirene) 2. Lady-in-waiting/Manservant 3. Servants of the King/Queen/Prince 4. House servants 5. Kitchenmaids 6. Slaves.


	2. Chapter 2

The knock on her door, followed by some muffled words behind it, woke Hermione up. The sun was barely showing, just a few rays were visible in the far mountains. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes with her fists. She felt exhausted, like the few hours of sleep she had gotten weren't enough.

For the past week, the Prince had been celebrating with his friends. _Every. Single. Night._ To her horror, she hadn't been dismissed the rest of the nights. For almost a week she had to watch how her Master got drunk while enjoying women, dancing around his sitting room. And then she had to stay there, standing outside his door, as he fucked everyone he wanted. The first night she felt nauseated by the groans and the moans coming from every door around her, especially her Master's, but then she slowly got used to it. Hermione stood there, listening, until everyone fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, before checking on her Master (always naked, sweaty, and with a couple of women sleeping on top of him) before going to bed.

As she grew up, watching the elegant women from afar, Hermione had always imagined that their lives were glamorous. She'd imagined that they served tea parties and sang for the Royals. How naïve she was. Now she understood why everyone said that the King's Ladies were his lovers, more like whores, and maybe the rumors weren't far from the truth. She felt grateful that the Prince hadn't insinuated anything yet.

With a sigh, she got up from bed, getting ready for the day. The only thing that made her work worth it, was the bed in which she slept and the food. As a Kitchenmaid she only had watery broth or leftovers for her meals. But as a Lady-in-waiting she could sit at the long table, with the other girls, and enjoy a decent meal. Sometimes, she was even offered dessert. And Eirene had explained that now that House Greengrass was coming, the royals would be hosting a lot of parties and events and that Ladies could attend them, having a designated table.

When Hermione came down for breakfast, most of the Ladies were already sitting at the table. She glanced around until her eyes caught the sight of the redhead and the blonde.

"We saved you a seat," Luna greeted, motioning to the empty chair. Hermione took her seat, placing food on her plate.

"Ugh, I don't understand why everyone is so excited for the Greengrass. That only means more work for us," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she bit into a toast.

Luna nodded. They had been Ladies since they were fifteen, and thankfully they didn't look down on Hermione for being a Kitchenmaid, as most of the Ladies did. They had been very kind to her, teaching her how to do things the right way, how to use the secret passages of the castle, how to attend her duties in the most graceful way.

Luna worked for one of the Prince's cousins, taking care of her son. Apparently the one-year-old was called Teddy and was the sweetest thing on Earth, according to the blonde. Because the prince spent most of his time in his chambers or in the gardens with his friends, Hermione still didn't know most of the family. Not once had she seen the King, as her Master preferred to speak with his father alone.

Ginny was another story. She was not a personal Lady and had to look after whoever came to the castle. Now, she was working for Lord Nott, so she and Hermione had spent almost all day together serving their respective men. But at night Hermione always felt so lonely without Ginny by her side as Lord Nott usually dismissed the redhead, and she had to face the parties alone.

"Girls! Pay attention!" Eirene called, her voice loud. The Ladies went silent, turning their attention to the elder woman. "Well, House Greengrass' belongings had just arrived, and we are expecting them to be here in a couple of hours."

"But they were supposed to come tomorrow!" Ginny claimed, annoyed. Everyone turned towards her. All the Ladies were thinking the exact same thing, but no one expressed their discontent with the news.

Eirene raised a brow, in a way to remind everyone in the room in which place they belonged in and that they could be replaced with the snap of fingers. "Then, I advise you to hurry up."

Panic quickly filled the air as all the Ladies stood up, almost running to get things ready and rushing into the palace. Ginny, Luna and Hermione grabbed their respective trays and quickly climbed up the stairs.

Everyone was rushing from one place to the other. The curtains and the windows were open. House servants cleaning every surface until they shone. Whispers and the sounds of hundreds of steps on the marble floor, creating a fuzz, and even the guards, always so serious, looked anxious. Hermione could only imagine the lashings that servants would receive if they didn't finish their duties before the King arose and the Greengrass were here. She shivered, remembered the only time she was lashed when she was twelve.

Luna went opposite from them, her blonde hair crashing with her dark purple dress. Hermione saw how Ginny opened the main doors to the Prince's chambers, quickly entering Lord Nott's room.

Her stomach flipped. Her Master wasn't going to be happy about this. She entered the room, placing the tray on the dressing table. Quickly entering the private bathroom and ordering a servant to bring in warm water. Her fingers skimmed over the luxurious cloth of his suits, pulling out the one that had Malfoy's coat of arms embroidered in silver. Anxiety rising as she got everything ready for him. Her Master groaned as she pulled the curtains apart, letting the sun shine into the room.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing here so early!" his voice was husky with sleep and anger, his arm covering his eyes.

He was so hangover that Hermione could smell the alcohol all over him.

She bowed, and the Prince stood up in front of her. "Good morning, Master. I've been sent up to inform you that Lady Greengrass and her House will be here in a couple of hours."

Her Master grabbed a chunk of her hair, yanking her head so that she looked up at him. She fell to her knees, pain rising in her scalp as he pulled harder. His eyes a dark shade of silver, his body vibrating with anger. Hermione felt the whimper forming in her throat, but her lips never released it. She kept her eyes fixed in his, knowing that weakness would only make him angrier.

"She is supposed to come tomorrow!" The prince roared, pushing her with such force that Hermione fell backwards on her palms. Her blood slowly began to heat, almost to boiling point, as anger filled her veins.

It was not her bloody problem that his fiancée happened to come one day early.

He began pacing up and down the room, clutching his head between his hands. Alcohol and anger didn't mix well, and she was sure her Master had a horrible headache. Taking deep breaths as she tried to control her anger she stood up, her head held high as if nothing had happened.

"Their belongings came an hour ago, chambers are getting ready right now. Please, _Master_ , let me get you ready," she grabbed a goblet, and approached him, offering the drink. Hermione almost had to bite her tongue to prevent the venom from spilling with the anger ringing in her ears.

He eyed her, suspiciously. "What's this?"

"It will help with the headache, Master."

Her Master grabbed the goblet, drinking its contents as he walked towards the bathroom. Hermione followed, a few steps behind. She took a deep breath, dissipating the anger before closing the door, knowing that servants would tidy up the bedroom.

The warm water filled the room with steam. He stood in front of the ivory bathtub, lifting his arms. Hermione approached, staring into his eyes, almost challenging him. Her fingers went down his body, pulling the nightgown off, followed by his underwear, careful not to touch his skin and trying not to look phased by his nakedness. She was still getting used to seeing him naked.

Climbing into the bathtub, he sat with his back against the ivory, relaxing as the warm water surrounded him. Hermione gently worked on him, the anger long gone. She had to remind herself that she was just a servant and part of her job was managing her Master's tantrums.

Her nails softly scratched his scalp as she washed his platinum blond hair. The foam of soap slowly filling the bathtub. She felt how he relaxed as her hands massaged his shoulders and neck. He groaned in pleasure as she pressed a point between his shoulder blades. Hermione had noticed that he was always tense, and that massaging his shoulders put him in a better mood.

Hermione grabbed a washing cloth, damping it in soap before she began stroking his body with it, washing away the sweat and alcohol. A soft hum coming out of her lips, as she bathed him, absent in her thoughts. Her brain commanded her hands to wash his shoulder, then his chest going low into his abdomen. Even though she was doing it with carefulness, her mind was elsewhere, imagining how Lady Astoria Greengrass would be, how the Prince would behave and all the hundreds of things she would have to do before his wedding.

A throaty groan snapped her out of her thoughts. Her Master had his head thrown back, lips slightly parted, a soft blush creeping up his neck. Hermione looked down, her hand resting on his abdomen, and a few inches down the sign of his arousal prominent, the tip peeking out the water.

She tried to pull her hand away in shock, but his hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place. His silver eyes opened abruptly, dark and filled with lust, staring intensely into her brown ones. Her breath hitched in her chest. Without looking away, her Master slowly dragged her hand over his skin, going lower and lower. He guided her hand until it was over his hardness, softly closing her slender fingers around him.

A shaky breath left Hermione's lips, not knowing what to do. This was not proper, she was sure Eirene hadn't signed her up for this. Hell, his soon to be wife was on her way to the palace. But, she knew that Ladies did this kind of favors for the King. She didn't want to be discharged to the kitchens. Surely the better life she was promised was worth the humiliation of pleasuring him. But, what if she displeased him and he replaced her because she didn't know how to satisfy him?

The moral dilemma going fast in her brain, her eyes still locked with his.

Her cheeks flushed as the humiliation settled in her chest. She was going to accept the duty of pleasuring him. Her Master lifted a brow, asking which path she was going to follow.

Hermione pushed her pride to the side, and slowly stroked him down his length, his hand over hers. He closed his eyes, throwing his head backwards. He guided her moves, gripping her hand firmly as her palm touched his sensitive flesh. Her thumb caressed the tip of his length and she felt him quiver under her grip. He liked that, just as he liked when she pressed that sensitive spot on his back. Her finger nails softly dragged over his flesh, and his moan echoed in the bathroom.

After a while, he let go of her hand. She intensified her grip and speed, caressing the tip with her thumb every time she reached it. Her cheeks flushed, watching as her Master allowed soft moans out of his lips, his face showing pure bliss. She felt him pulsing under her touch as she continued her hand job.

"Who do you serve?" he hissed out, his voice husky with pleasure.

Hermione gulped, her throat suddenly dry. "I only serve you, _Master_ ," she softly said, surprised by the confidence in her voice.

With a low groan, he came in her hand, hot and thick liquid dissipating into the water.

* * *

Draco was sitting at the main table of a huge party thrown in honor of his future wife's family, and he was bored out of his mind. His index finger circling the rim of his cup as he stared at the couples dancing in the center of the ballroom. After leaving the bathroom that morning, feeling more relaxed, he had thought that the day would be bearable. But, hell, he was wrong.

He had seen Astoria every summer since he was five, their parents trying to make the engagement more pleasurable by forcing them to be friends. But he didn't even _like_ Astoria.

He eyed the green-eyed beauty sitting to his left. She had a pretty, doll like face, with porcelain skin. Just like the hundreds of heiresses he had seen during his lifetime. Just like the daughters of the lords sitting a few tables from him. Even her voice sounded like every other he had heard before.

Rolling his eyes, he gulped down his wine. Just hearing her chatting with his mother was putting him on the verge of boredom. She liked the same things as the other heiresses, dressed like them, acted like them. How could his parents choose someone so _dull_ to be the next queen? Not that his mother was the most interesting woman on earth, anyway. But Astoria represented everything a queen should be, or what his parents thought a queen should be. Well mannered, from a powerful House, beautiful and obedient to her future husband. A good girl. Maybe too good for him.

The worst part was that she was so slenderly built that it was obvious that her corset was pushing her breast up to pretend she had some curves to offer. Maybe that was the reason Theo had been encouraging him to find a proper mistress, because he knew that Draco's future wife wouldn't be up to satisfy the deepest of his appetites.

And then, there she was. The forbidden fruit. Her curly hair softly moving around her as one of Astoria's cousins guided her through the dance floor. He would have never laid eyes on her, she was a Kitchenmaid after all, not even a proper Lady of the court. But over the years he had understood that the things that seem most appealing are those forbidden and wrong. And she was both. Wrong because of her status and forbidden because Astoria was meant to be the one sharing his bed (not that he cared about that rule).

But he loved the hatred she kept quiet, the way her eyes challenged him, the fire that ignited her soul. She was trying to be proper, to hold back those intense emotions, but she was not that. She was a fighter, Draco could almost feel her blood boiling every time he humiliated her. The words dying on her lips, but her eyes showing all that rage. And he desired to feel that range all over him, and his name falling from her lips as he fucked her senseless.

Draco didn't know how she had captivated him in a couple of weeks, but he was sure that her contrast with the other Ladies had something to do with it.

Hermione must have felt his eyes staring at her back, because soon she turned to face him. Her light blue dress floating around her.

He stood up, facing his fiancée from above and, with his most charming smile, he extended his hand. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady Greengrass?" Her cheeks flushed, as she took his hand and let Draco guide her to the dance floor. He tried not to roll his eyes, she was such a _prude_.

The orchestra continued filling the room with music as Draco glided across the room, elegantly twirling Astoria. People were standing from the tables and approaching the dance floor to get a better glance at the soon to be royal couple. Draco could see as Lord and Lady Greengrass smiled, satisfied and imagining their youngest daughter's exceptional future as a Queen. His mother was not far behind, delighted by the dark-haired girl in his arms and surely already imagining her grandchildren. But his intentions were not in Lady Greengrass, as he elegantly danced approaching Hermione and her dance partner.

The song ended, and everyone stopped, facing the orchestra. Laughter and claps filled the air. And the moment he had been waiting for finally came.

"Dance with me, cousin Astoria," the tall man asked, taking Astoria a few feet away from Draco.

Hermione turned, determined to return to the Ladies' table, but Draco quickly captured her right hand in his left, pulling her to face him. Her chest pressed against his, as his other hand snaked down her back to rest on her hip. His fingers digging into her soft skin, just separated by the fabric of her dress.

"I guess you are dancing with me now," he smirked, and her eyes sparkled with fire.

"I guess I don't have an option, _Master_ ," the word rolled off her tongue and goosebumps flourished on his skin. He was sure that Hermione would never tease him, she knew her place, but that word awoke his deepest desires.

"I didn't know Kitchenmaids were taught how to dance," he twirled her, and pressed her harder towards him when she was facing him again.

"Eirene educated me well. I would not be serving you otherwise, Master," she lifted an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips.

"I assume not," he shrugged. He shifted his eyes to glance above her shoulder. Theo was sitting at a table, staring at Draco. His best friend winked at him, lifting his cup, cheering him, before taking a long gulp of wine.

"I think your bride to be is looking for you, Master. I was commanded to leave you alone when you escort Lady Greengrass back to her chamber," she whispered, her hot breath caressing the skin of his neck.

And as the music stopped, Hermione slithered out of his grip with a swift move, before getting lost in the crowd. And a few seconds after, Astoria was linking their arms, asking him to escort her to her chambers.

* * *

The castle was death silence, only some dim lights coming from candles illuminating the stone walls. Draco could not sleep, his brain running wild. And, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Astoria, flashes of his royal duties, what he thought would be his boring life married to Astoria. But above all he saw a pair of brown eyes, freckles of gold in them shining with anger. He could almost still feel her soft hand over where he most ached for it. It was driving it insane. _"Just fuck her, your filthy whim will go away,"_ Theo had told him.

But how could Draco satisfy his desire for her if she had almost not touched him since a week ago, when the bathtub affair occurred?

He walked across the halls and down many sets of stairs until he reached the main library. Draco was tugging on his hair, he was acting like a bloody adolescent, losing his sleep over a girl.

He plopped on a chair by his favorite window, at the far back of the library. The silence was the peace his mind needed so desperately. He felt so exhausted and sick of Astoria. She wanted to spend every _fucking_ minute of the day with him. And because she was his future wife, and everyone was watching his every move towards her, he couldn't just push her out of his life like he would have done with anyone else. So, he had spent the past week eating with her, walking through the gardens enrolled in a shallow conversation with her, riding horses and enjoying tea parties in the woods.

But what made those activities, that he had done before with Astoria, unbearable was the presence of Hermione always a few steps behind him. The only thing Draco needed to feel her skin under his fingertips was extending his arm. But he didn't ache for the exposed skin her dresses left uncovered. No, he ached for the skin the fabric shielded from his view. The warm and soft flesh between her legs, something he had only imagined.

A soft thud, of a book falling on the carpet, snapped him out of his thoughts. He stood up, alert. As a prince he had been trained to be always watching, many wanted to end his life to get a hold of the crown and the power it symbolized. He furrowed his brows; the guards were just outside the doors would never let in anyone that wasn't loyal to the crown. But the secret passages were opened to anyone that knew how to get through them.

Clenching his fists, he slowly walked around the shelves of books, careful not to make a noise. He was ready to kill the intruder with his bare hands.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Before him the image of his sinful thoughts had materialized. Hermione was in front of a bookshelf, standing on her toes and stretching her arm up to reach a book. Her white nightgown so thin and short that he could see the curve where her thighs transformed into her ass peaking underneath it. His hand twitched, he just wanted to grip her and cup her ass as he banged her against the wall.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" Draco whispered, approaching her. She jumped back, startled, and turned to face him.

He could see her breasts going up and down with every breath she took, the fabric of her gown thin enough to let him see her nipples hiding behind it. He felt how blood rushed down his body, hardening at the sight of her.

"Master," the word escaped from her lips like a plea, and he felt his blood going hot. "I didn't know you were here."

She looked down, staring at the book in her hands. Draco took three long steps and snatched the book out of her grasp. He read the front cover. The novel that told the story of two lovers in Verona. Hermione was still staring at her feet, and Draco couldn't help but roam his silver eyes all over her body. His mind started to imagine how her soft flesh would feel under him.

"You like to read?" He inquired.

Hermione looked up, that was not the answer she expected. "Very much, Master."

"I like reading too," he took another step, now only a breath away from her. "May I know why my Lady-in-waiting is going around the castle in such an indiscreet gown," he asked, staring into her eyes as his fingers played with the hem of her nightdress.

"I just came for a book, Master. I will be back in my bed now."

She grabbed the book, but before she could take a step back from him, Draco had pinned her against the bookshelf, his hands at either side of her head. She was looking into his eyes, challenging him.

"Or maybe you were hoping to be on my call," he whispered, his breath brushing her face.

He dipped his face, to kiss her, to soothe the hunger he felt deep inside him. To his surprise his lips didn't touch hers, as she had turned her face and now was the skin of her cheek what his lips were feeling. Rage and lust quickly filled his veins. He captured her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. Her breaths were deep and sharp, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her eyes were burning with fire, with the fire he had hoped to see. But his anger only increased.

"What do you think you are doing?" He demanded, almost spitting in her face. His fingers digging into her face.

"With all due respect, _Master._ I'm your servant, not your prostitute," she spat out, venom in her voice.

In the blink of an eye, she escaped his grip and disappeared into one of the secret passages. That infuriating woman would not leave him just like that.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone that followed, favorited and reviwed the story and everyone that is liking the story so far. This chaper is dedicated to you. Let me know what you think about the story so far and if you are liking the dark plot... because it only gets darker from here. Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was sure her Master would order her lashing after her insolence. Her eyes never closed during the rest of that night, thinking about how she was going to tell Eirene that she had failed to fulfil her duties. That all the effort the old woman had put in raising her was going to trash because she had refused to fall into her Master's arms. But what was she supposed to do? Follow him blindly into his bed, as she had witnessed many women do, was not one of her options. She wasn't looking for something more than a bed and a decent meal until the day in which she was released from the castle came, if it ever came. She didn't want any favors from him, she didn't want money or power. In her eyes, she had no good reason to please his desires. Wasn't that the job of the women that were sent into his chambers every other night?

But the lashing never came.

She continued to tend him, following his every step, every hour of the day. But it seemed that his new favorite hobby was making her life impossible. Calling her in the middle of the night just to hand him the glass of water that was in his bedside table, purposely bumping into her so she dropped the tea tray, making her do wrong in front of the Queen and enjoying how she would be scolded, the corners of his lips lifting in a smirk as the Queen raised her voice at her, calling her names.

Closing the trunk, she sighed. She folded two more of his shirts and packed them. Hermione was hoping that going away for the rest of the summer would ease her Master's bad mood. She had heard him mention a couple of times his love for the sea and the beach. And lately it seemed that after spending all day with Astoria he was ready to release his anger on Hermione as she got him ready for bed.

It was late in the afternoon, and the carriages were getting ready to leave. Hermione saw how servants loaded up the belongings of the Royal family, as well as the ones from the Greengrass', the Nott's and other Houses that were invited to spend summer in the palace by the south sea.

"Lady Hermione!" a voice called behind her, as she climbed the two steps to get into the carriage with the other Ladies.

She turned to face the source of the voice. A tall, dark-haired man was running in her direction. His green eyes fixated on her. "Lord Potter," she bowed, greeting the King's adviser and right hand.

"His Highness the Prince is asking to see you immediately," he took her hand in his, helping her off the carriage.

"But he is travelling with Lady Greengrass, and I made sure everything was right for the night of travel," she said, but Lord Potter didn't reply. The horses' hooves clacked against the road as the first carriages left the castle grounds.

Lord Potter softly pushed her up into the Prince's cart, closing the door behind her and commanding the other carriages to go pass the gates. Her Master was looking outside the window as she sat opposite from him, her hands resting in her lap playing nervously with the fabric of her dress.

"Is something wrong, Master? I did just how you ordered me and followed Lady Greengrass' instructions as well…" she trailed off as one of his fingers went up, telling her to be quiet.

"I'm travelling alone tonight. I can't stand Astoria one fucking second more," he turned to see her, his silver eyes tired. "And since Eirene is going with my mother, you are the only person I trust to travel with me."

Hermione nodded, but didn't reply. The carriage started to move, they both stayed still, not looking at one another. Hermione felt claustrophobic locked in the carriage with him. It could perfectly fit eight people, but somehow it seemed that he was way too close to her. His platinum blond hair falling into his forehead, messy. His silver eyes staring at the kingdom they left behind. He may not be King yet, but he loved his people, and intended to rule with a firm but kind hand. And the Aerglo people knew it.

Hours went by as the darkness of the night settled in the sky, her Master sat next to her, before lying down with his head on her thighs. He closed his eyes and snuggled next to her, making himself comfortable.

A small smile tugged Hermione's lips, he looked like a small child. Her fingers found his platinum hair, softly scratching his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair. She muttered a lullaby until his breaths went slow and deep, falling asleep in her lap while she stared at the stars shining in the sky.

* * *

Draco saw how his mother pushed Hermione, making her drop one of the emblems that were supposed to be pinned in his jacket. "You are completely useless! My son was supposed to be downstairs half an hour ago!"

Hermione quickly pined the emblems on his left side, right above his heart.

"I'm sorry your High—" she tried to apologize, but before she could finish Narcissa slapped her across the face, hard. The sound of the smack echoing in the room as her right cheek turned a deep shade of red, Narcissa's fingers printed on her skin. "Do wrong again and I will have you lashed to death."

Not another word left her lips as she placed the Prince's crown over his head, softly brushing platinum hair out of his forehead. Draco saw how she swallowed her pride and humiliation, her eyes bright with anger. His mother left the room, storming into the halls, making her way towards the gardens and he followed her, not looking at his Lady. It was his fault they were late. Hermione had been trying to get him ready, but he had spent all the time teasing her and walking around the room making her job impossible. And now the left side of her face was swollen because of him.

The brown eyed girl followed him a few steps behind, her eyes fixed on the floor.

They reached the garden, the ocean so close that the sound of the waves engulfed the air. Summer had blossomed all flowers, bathing the garden's bushes in a colorful swirl. Draco took a deep breath. Salty and blessed smell of the ocean filling his lungs.

Astoria was already waiting for him, standing in the middle of all the guests, wearing a green and silver gown. His House colors, how _wonderful_ of his bride. She looked elegant with her hair pulled up, diamonds adorning her neck, her head held high as if the crown was already resting on her head.

Powerful Lords and Ladies from powerful houses were enjoying the best wine money could buy as they waited for the ceremony to start. They didn't care for the Ring Ceremony, they didn't care about his wedding. They cared to be on the right side of the King, and as he was up to fulfil that duty in the near future, they were almost licking the ground he stepped on.

He stood in front of the green-eyed woman destined to be his wife. This was so stupid. Their parents had planned the alliance since before they could talk, and yet he was about to do the Ring Ceremony because it was _tradition_.

Taking the ring out of his pocket, he took her hand in his. "Lady Astoria of House Greengrass," he looked around, everyone watching them expectantly, "may you do me the honor of becoming my wife. To help me in my future duties, to lead the Kingdom of Aerglo on the best path, to unify our houses and produce an Heir that shall continue with the legacy our Houses have left."

He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her hand before the priest blessed their union, announcing that the wedding would be next spring. He shifted his gaze from his bride-to-be and his eyes stopped on Hermione. Her fingers slightly touching the sore area on her cheek. She didn't look away, her eyes burning with the want of revenge. One that she would never have.

* * *

It was very late at night, or very early in the morning, when her Master finally climbed (or better said dragged himself) up the stairs to his chamber. Hermione was waiting for him, sitting on a chair by the window. Her chest still felt heavy with hate, anger and humiliation. Was this part of being a Lady? Or maybe she was the only one suffering this? Long forgotten were the times when she wished no more that to be a Lady of the Court, attend parties and flirt with Lords. Now she was feeling so miserable that the dark kitchen and watery broth looked welcoming. How ironic was that in order to have a better life, a better opportunity, she had to endure a miserable life?

Her Master stumbled into the room, too drunk to even walk. He had been complaining about his engagement to Astoria since they had arrived at the summer Palace, a month ago, but he seemed to have enjoyed the Ring Ceremony party more than the bride.

" _Hermioneeee_!" He yelled, dragging the _e_ a little too much. He had not noticed her presence in the room.

"I'm right here, Master. No need to raise your voice."

He turned to see her, his silver eyes shining with something she had never seen, something mischievous, almost evil. She approached him, taking off the crown adorning his head. Putting him to sleep when he was drunk was a challenge, it was going to be a long night. Hermione walked over to the dressing table, putting away the gold crown into the velvet box.

She felt when he stepped closer, his chest against her back as his arm encircled her waist, his hand pressing her towards him. "I think you own me something," he whispered, his hot breath behind her head.

Hermione's blood ran cold, her heart hammering in her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about, Master."

"Oh, you know." He spun her with a swift move, clutching her between his arms and pinning her against the dressing table.

Hermione struggled in his grip, fighting to be released, but he only held her tighter. With his left hand he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. He smelled strongly like alcohol and his skin was burning against hers. She tried to push him away, failing again. Her hands pressed hard into his chest, panic rising in her gut. Draco only smirked at her poor attempts to run away.

He dipped his head to kiss her. Hermione pressed her lips together, not wanting to grant him entrance, but he kissed her anyways, trying to force her to open her mouth and accept her fate. His hands roamed her body, up and down, grabbing everything they could. Tears prickled her eyes, threatening to fall. But she was not going to cry, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

As minutes passed, Hermine gave up, staying still as he still kissed her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Again, she had been foolish in thinking he had forgotten about the library incident. He hadn't forgotten, he was waiting for the right moment, like a wolf staying in the dark to capture their prey.

But thanks to the gods above, the door to his chamber flew open. Eirene entered the bedroom, carrying a tray with freshly prepared tea, knowing the Prince would need it to sober up. Hermione heard how the old woman gasped at the sight in front of her. Surely the sight of the Prince forcefully kissing her while his hands went crazy over her body was not what she expected to see.

Her Master's arms fell to his sides, releasing her. And before he could change his mind, Hermione shoved him to the side running pass Eirene, into the dark halls of the castle. She felt like she couldn't breathe, the hot air of summer burning her lungs. She ran blindly, just trying to get as far away as she could from him. She wanted to drown in the ocean. The dark blue waves were almost calling her. And her feet obeyed as they took her down the halls towards the back door, just a short walk away from the sea.

Hermione abruptly stopped when she reached the back door. It was open, and no guards were there. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the sounds of her erratic breath. In between the shadows and just illuminated by the moon glow stood Lord Potter. And he was not alone. In front of him stood Lord Longbottom. He wasn't even supposed to know the King was in this palace. And Lord Potter was supposed to be back at the city, to keep an eye on the kingdom while the Royal family was absent.

She stood by the door, shocked, not knowing what to do. Lord Longbottom handed the King's right hand an envelope, and he returned the favor by handing the tall, pale, dark-haired man a small bag full of gold. She didn't understand why Lord Potter would meet with one of the enemies of the Crown. Weren't not all loyal servants of the Crown forbidden to speak about his Highness with the people that wanted his head?

She felt dizzy, her head spinning. It was too much for her to handle. Her Master trying to get her way with her and Lord Potter being a… Traitor to the Crown?

One foot behind the other, Hermione tried to make her way back into the palace. But Lord Potter turned in her direction and saw her before she could back away from the door. Immediately he understood that she had seen the exchange. Her brown eyes opened in amusement as she tried to escape the scene. But Potter was faster and more astute. He grabbed her by the shoulders, painfully digging his fingers into her skin.

"What did you see?" he asked, angrily, between his teeth.

"No—Nothing," she shuddered under his grip.

His green eyes stared into her own, so intensely she wished to die right there and then. "You are to tell no one what you saw. Understood? Or I'll command your public execution for telling his Highness secrets."

Lord Potter pushed her out of his way, as he entered the castle. Hermione fell to the cold hard floor. She dragged herself up, walking quickly outside to the sea. Her feet buried in the sand as she desperately walked into the ocean. The ice-cold water reaching her waist, the dress heavy around her legs. Every step she took felt like knives were penetrating her skin, reaching her bones. How could the water be so cold on a hot summer night?

Her body started to numb, as she rushed further into the sea. The water just below her breasts. Hermione couldn't take it any longer. She bent over and emptied her stomach, not being able to hold anything. The sour flavor burning her throat as thick liquid made its way out of her body.

Her head was spinning, but she felt so light that she welcomed the blackness that dragged her as she fainted, her body falling into the water, dragged by the waves.

* * *

Draco shook his head, trying to erase the horrible memories of that awful night.

It all started with guards rushing down the tallest watchtower, yelling for the other guards to go out to the beach. They had spotted someone. The commotion quickly shook the palace. Those who were still awake stormed out of their rooms. And Draco had been one of them.

Eirene was trying to calm everyone down, telling Ladies to return with their respective Lords and to not wake anyone. He had made his way down the stairs, barefoot in his nightgown, and with a huge headache. He saw how everyone returned to their chambers, not caring for what had happened as Eirene had announced that it was not a matter that concerned the King or his safety.

But Draco stood there, half way down the main stairs, and he saw how three guards entered the vestibule, coming from the hall that led to the back courtyard, soaked in water. The salty smell of the ocean hovering over them. And behind them another guard, carrying the lifeless body of Hermione.

Her skin was drained of all color, lips a nasty shade of purple and blue. Her light blue dress dripping water as it stuck to her body. She was not breathing as her chest didn't move and water was coming out of her mouth.

Eirene ran towards her, as she spoke quietly with the guards. Draco just stood there, motionless as he watched how they took her away.

It had been a week since that and Hermione had still not returned to his command.

Draco knew she was alive, Eirene had told him that she was healing. That Hermione would soon be serving him again. But Draco knew that Eirene was delaying her return. And he couldn't blame her. She loved Hermione as a daughter and seeing him in such a compromising position with her had indeed shocked Eirene, even if she hadn't mentioned a single word.

He threw the letters he was trying to read over the desk. His brain couldn't attend Royal business when thinking about the strange beauty that should be sitting by his side, waiting for him to finish. The sun was setting behind the ocean, the sky painted of a rich deep orange that was slowly turning to red. He leaned against the window, pressing his forehead against the hot glass.

And his soul filled with joy, that quickly turned to anger, as he saw chestnut curls bouncing on the far end of the gardens, close to the rampart.

His feet quickly stepped out of the drawing room, taking him out into the gardens as he walked furiously between bushes. He stalked pass two bushes, moving the branches away with such force that they snapped.

And Hermione was, in fact, there. Her hair free of the usual clips, soft curls dancing in the wind. She was not wearing her usual teal dress, instead a simple, short white cotton dress covered her body. Hermione walked along the bushes, her fingertips brushing the leaves and roses. She was walking so freely, like she wasn't under his command. On top of that, she was barefoot, like a simple peasant. Like she didn't live under the same roof as him. His veins pulsed with acrimony.

"What are you doing here?" Draco spat venom, staring at her.

"Enjoying summer, Master," she simply said, not turning to see him and continuing her path alongside the flowers. Was she really that sadistic?

"If you can _enjoy summer,_ then you are completely capable of attending your duties. Why the fuck aren't you up there," he pointed to the castle, exasperated, "serving me?"

She turned to face him. Her face was calm, plump lips showing a small smile. Hermione lifted a brow, mocking him. Draco felt how his breath got hotter as fury numbed his brain.

"I am healing, Master. You may not know it, but we mortals need time to heal after we almost face death."

She _was_ mocking him. She was fucking laughing at him. She was questioning the power the gods had laid in his House to lead the Kingdom. That infuriating woman.

Hermione stepped closer and he was sure she could feel the anger irradiating from him.

"Are you questioning my power?" he hissed.

"I would never do such thing, Master," she pretended to be offended as she placed a hand on her chest, batting her eyelashes. "How could I, a simple servant, scum that sticks to your foot, question his Royal Highness the Prince?"

Her head tilted, so she now was staring at his eyes. Her face was calm, but her eyes were bleeding anger and hatred. He stepped closer to her, now just a breath away, clenching his jaw.

"Be careful with your mouth, you could regret it," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"I may regret many things, but you may sleep tonight, Master, knowing that I won't regret a word that is coming from my lips. Even if I shall pay the price with my life. Because you, like everyone of your kind, look down at us like animals you can sacrifice when you don't like our behavior."

The venom in her voice stroke him like a horse. He fisted his hands, trying to control his anger. He was this close to killing her, right there, with his bare hands.

Hermione noticed his fists and stood a little taller as she spoke. "Hit me."

Draco blinked a couple of times, perplexed.

"What?"

"If you want to hit me, Master, hit me. Be a man, as you father says, and hit me. I'm nothing but a slave to your command. And you would not be the first, and certainly not the last, to lay a hand on me. So, hit me. Kill me. Take whatever you want from me. I don't care anymore. Hit me until I bleed to death, and my life would be another that succumbed upon your kind."

Her breath was erratic, her chest rising and falling sharply against his. He could almost see red, rage filling his veins up to the point of almost making them burst. His breath crashing against her face. His mind was running wild, with every different possible outcome. He couldn't control his body; his anger was leading his mind and actions. Draco lifted his hand, grabbing her by the collar of her dress, fisting the fabric in his hand, holding her in place. She didn't flinch, Hermione didn't stop looking at his silver eyes for a second. And before he could think about it, it happened.

He lowered himself, so he was at her eye level.

And kissed her.

Not like the first time, not with the anger of drunkenness, not the fury and roughness of that time. He kissed her with the hatred he felt for wanting her so much. With the exasperation he felt for her insolence. With the resentment he felt for her being so different from the other Ladies. With the fury he felt for tolerating Astoria every second of the day. With the rage this woman provoked on him, and worst, with wrath he felt for not being able to get rid of her or posses her and end everything for once and for all.

Hermione pushed him away, their lips pulled apart, but he held her in place.

"How dare you provoke me like that?" he questioned, anger palpable in his voice.

"It's not my problem what you feel about me, Master."

"You returned the kiss," he pointed out, furrowing his brows.

Hermione simply shook her head as she forced his hands away from her body. "It would be a shame someone saw you," she nodded at the shadows that indicated that people were approaching.

Draco let go of her, and turned on his heels, marching back to the palace.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone that had been supportive! This chapter is for you! Tell me what you think about the chapter and what you think will happen next in the Kingdom of Aerglo.

Sooooo welllllllll... they kissed. I know it's not dark and blah blah blah. But this is a romance story. Not a mushy romance, but romance in the end. Don't worry, chapters are going to get darker and more pg-18. **Just wanted to gift you with a little piece of heaven before** _ **hell breaks loose.**_


	4. Chapter 4

"What should our next move be, your Highness?" one of the Lords asked, the room was dead silence as everyone attending the meeting waited for King Lucius to speak.

Hermione was standing a few feet away from her Master, who right now was sitting still next to his father, his elbows on top of the long mahogany table with his hands forming a triangle over his mouth. Silver eyes staring intently at the map in front of him showing the Kingdom of Aerglo and the neighbor kingdoms.

"War has been threatening Aerglo since before I was crowned, and not once had I seen any of the threats become true," the King spoke vehemently, standing up and pacing around the table. "I think they are trying to intimidate us. But I will stand my ground. My main concern is to expand the Kingdom to the north. We will benefit from the mines there and we will have another port far from Civitas to save ships and protect our people," he dragged a figure, representing Aerglo's Legion, across the map.

Whispers formed a buzz as all the Lords discussed the possibility.

"Impossible. There is a nomadic tribe, that responds to the Longbottom, here," the General of Arms, Sirius Black, shook his head. He leaned over the map, marking the territory occupied by the tribe.

"What do you suggest, then?" the King questioned, but no one responded.

"Maybe we could negotiate with them," her Master stood, walking over where his father stood, standing so tall that his whole aura screamed _future King,_ his back so straight it looked painful _._ "Aerglo has more things to offer than the Kingdom of Deneb. There must be something they want the Longbottom can't give them. That could be our opportunity."

Lord Potter shifted in his place, looking up to the Prince.

King Lucius turned to face the patriarch of Nott House. "Isn't your son an incredible war negotiator?"

"Yes, he is your Highness. He has completed every single of the missions you had assigned him."

"Girl!" the King shouted, moving his hand. Hermione jumped back, startled at the sudden yell. She approached the King, bowing, never looking at him in the face. "Go tell Nott that we need his presence in this meeting immediately!"

Hermione rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Nothing had been the same since that day at the gardens. She had been assigned a room out of the servant's quarters and now she slept in an adjoined room attached to her Master's chamber. Days had flown by in a swirl of tea parties, feasts, escorting her Master as he and Lady Greengrass rode horses in the woods, walked on the beach at sundown or took a night stroll by the central gardens. And in all those occasions the Prince had limited his words at her, talking only when it was necessary.

He would not tease her anymore, it was he didn't mind her presence anymore. Hermione would perform her daily duties as he stood before her, only watching her every move but not commenting anything. Maybe it was because he was preparing to marry and wanted to avoid problems with Lady Greengrass, as she seemed to dislike the fact that her Master had a Lady-in-waiting instead of a Manservant. Maybe it was because every day more royal duties were laid upon his hands as he prepared to become King.

But if she was honest to herself, she missed her Master. Not the one that teased her or was abusive to get his way. Not the cold-stone-like one he showed to the world, but the one he was when she was the only one around. The one that would fall asleep with her singing every other night, the one that would smirk when he thought about a brilliant response to a letter, the one that was relaxed when staring at the sea.

But she, herself, had many duties to attend, many things to help her Master with. There was no time to waste in childish thoughts.

Hermione stood before the wooden door leading to her Master's closest friend's chamber. Knocking softly, she waited a few minutes, but there was no response. She chewed her lip. If she returned to the meeting salon without Lord Nott, the King would probably slap her so hard that a couple of her teeth were sure to fall.

She knocked again, one, two, three times, but no one responded. As minutes passed, Hermione thought that facing an upset Lord Nott was better than standing in front of a furious King, and without thinking it twice, she opened the door.

The air was knocked out of her chest as she took the image before her. Lord Nott's face flushed, pure lust showing, as groans came out of his throat. And on top of him a woman with ivory skin and long red hair moved, slamming her hips against his. Lady Ginevra, her friend, was shagging Lord Nott senseless. The same Ginny that would complain about how royals treated them as inferiors and would roll her eyes at anything Lady Astoria said was fucking Lord Nott.

The sounds of the moans coming out of their mouths and their bodies crashing together so vulgar, that a hot blush quickly crept up Hermione's chest, settling in her cheeks. And she couldn't help but feel the warm feeling growing between her legs as she saw how they were approaching climax. Before she could witness what happened next, she stepped back, exiting the room and closing the door.

She felt so voyeuristic after witnessing something so intimate, so forbidden, and feeling heath spread all over her body. Her heart was racing, her lungs burning as she panted, gasping for air. Hermione placed a hand over her throat. It felt so dry, as if she had eaten the sand that covered the beach outside the palace. And her feet carried her away from the door before she could even react further.

Her mind was jumping from one thought to another. Lady Daphne Greengrass, _his_ wife, was only two doors away, and yet Lord Nott was fucking, hard, his assigned Lady-in-waiting. Didn't he have shame? What if they were caught? What if someone else had caught them instead of her? What about Ginny? She would for sure be punished, or worst. Didn't she think of that?

Stopping dead on her tracks, the blush intensified. Was her master thinking about doing those things with her? Was that the reason behind the bathtub incident almost five months ago? Another wave of heat spread across her body. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, trying not let her mind go wild, but failing. Soon enough the image of her on top of her Master clouded her brain, and she felt like she would faint at any moment.

Asking one of the servants to go announce to Lord Nott that he was required by the King, Hermione was sure she wouldn't be able to go back to his chamber to tell him herself. She stood by a window, close to the salon, trying to calm her blush with the cool breeze that entered the castle. With her mind going crazy, she remembered the kiss from two weeks ago. How she could feel his anger, and how she had responded with the same amount of anger. And worst, how she had enjoyed it, the feeling of his lips on hers.

Hermione shook her head, dissipating her thoughts, as she followed Lord Nott into the meeting salon, almost an hour later after she was sent for him. She couldn't look at him, as if he knew what her eyes had witnessed. But no one knew, and no one would ever know. She vowed silence as she kept another forbidden secret.

* * *

Her fingers moved the needle across the fabric, sewing and patching the almost invisible hole in her Master's jacket. She had been doing this for almost an hour, replacing buttons and patching fabric. Hermione was counting the seconds, she wanted to be out of there.

Because Lady Astoria's maid was sick, she had been commanded by the Queen herself to tend to her for the day. Her Master had been against it, claiming that he needed her to help him with his work, writing letters and what not. But the Queen had just rolled her eyes and told Hermione to be in Lady Astoria's chambers before she sent her to spend the day in the basement locked up.

Hermione folded one of the shirts placing it with the other garments she had fixed, looking from the corner of her eye in Lady Astoria's direction. The said Lady had been pretending to write letters, elaborating her calligraphy far from what was needed. But Hermione noticed that Lady Astoria had been staring at her all the time she had been in the small drawing room, inspecting every inch of her body.

"Why do you tend on the Prince?" finally Lady Astoria spoke, getting up from her chair by the desk and taking three steps towards Hermione.

Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her superior. "Because that is my job, your Ladyship," her tone came more sarcastic than she intended and the Lady before her glared at her with shining green eyes.

"I know you have witnessed everything he does. I know that you are aware of what he is hiding from me," Lady Astoria stood up, leaving the letter she was writing discarded on the table.

"I know nothing you yourself don't know, my Lady. And the few other things I know are related to my Master's duties and are sure to only bore you," Hermione continued sewing a button as she spoke, not looking at his Master's bride.

"Are you his mistress?"

The accusation made Hermione look up and snort. Her Master had slept with more women that she could count, but she had not yet warmed his bed. Ignoring what Lady Astoria had said, she just continued her job.

"If I talk to you I expect an answer, I'm the future wife of your Lord the Prince and I expect to be treated as one," the Lady came closer, anger and superiority in her voice.

Lady Astoria stood arrogantly, and Hermione lifted a brow. Was that everything she had to offer? Being a future wife? Maybe that was the reason her Master found her so boring and dull. No man really wanted a woman that lacked passion for life. "You offend me with your words, I am nothing but a servant and have nothing to do with my Master."

"How dare you speak to me like that, you are nothing but an overrated whore! I see the way he seeks your company, and how you disappear into his chambers every night."

Her doll-like face flushed with anger and Hermione saw her green eyes become darker. She was sick and tired of this. There was no way in hell that she was going to tend on Lady Astoria a single second more. She would just go back to her Master.

Standing up, Hermione spoke, even more eager when she noticed that she was an inch taller than the younger Lady Greengrass. "He seeks my company in the way a Master seeks his servant for help. My room is within his chambers and is my duty to get him ready for bed. So, I beg your pardon if you don't like the way I have to attend my duties, but that is the way my Master likes things done. And if the senseless accusations you are telling were true, I would never be able to tell you, my Lady. As you may know, I'm a loyal server to my Master and vowed silence. Not a word of his personal business will ever leave my lips, so don't push me to say anything, as it will only be a waste of time for both of us, my Lady. Now, if you will excuse me, I'll return to my Master as you have offended me deeply."

Hermione grabbed the basket containing the clothing she was fixing and walked to the door without looking back at Lady Astoria. But it seemed that her Master's future wife had other plans.

Letting go of the basket and dropping all the garments, Hermione fell to the hard, wooden floor after Lady Greengrass pushed her. She couldn't help the scream that left her lips when pain filled her senses as the green-eyed beauty grabbed her hair tied with a ribbon and dragged her across the floor.

"You filthy, little whore! I will not tolerate such behavior!" Lady Greengrass yelled, pulling at her hair harder.

But they didn't live in a palace for nothing and Hermione's screams had alerted the guards in the halls. And soon enough a couple of guards kicked the door open, their swords in hand. A few feet behind them the Queen and the matriarch of House Greengrass stood, horrified at the sight of Lady Astoria dragging Hermione across the floor.

"What is going on here?"

Hermione felt relief when her Master's voice reached her ears. He pushed the guards aside and entered the room, fuming. Lady Astoria immediately released her hair, as she stared in shock at the Prince.

"Can you explain what you are doing, _Astoria_?" the way he pronounced her first name, with venom, even made Hermione shiver.

She tried to get up, and quickly her Master bent over to help her. His warm hands quickly found their way, one to her shoulder and one to the small of her back, helping her up.

"Do I have to remind you that we are not yet married, and that I can still break the engagement off? Because I was sure I was going to marry a Lady of a respectable House and not a town girl. I will not tolerate such behavior of my future wife."

He didn't look back at the shocked faces of the Lady Astoria and her mother as he guided Hermione to his study, far from the burning gazes of the Ladies.

* * *

It was the last day at the palace by the sea. Autumn had begun to manifest as cool air stripped trees of their leaves. It was sure to be a cold winter. Especially during the last month of the year. And even though the prospect of leaving the ocean behind and the warmth of summer not being against his skin anymore, Draco felt contempt.

The Ladies-in-waiting had asked for the afternoon off, and the Queen, being in a good mood, agreed. He was sitting at a long table with the guests that hadn't yet returned to their homes, as they enjoyed afternoon tea with the last rays of summer. He was moving his cup around, playing with the tea leaves at the bottom.

Whispers of laughter reached his ears accompanied by the sound of steps crunching over the soft grass of the gardens. Children played hide and seek, between the bushes with the last roses they will see until next spring, as the Ladies chased after them pretending not to see where they were hiding. Others picked the last flowers, adorning little girls' hair with them, while eating blackberries growing in between the maze of trees and bushes.

But Draco couldn't lift his gaze from his loyal servant.

Hermione was walking in between the girls that followed her, moving her hands and dramatizing as she told the story of an old forgotten kingdom and a brave princess. Her golden locks were dancing in the air and a flower crown adorned her head. She was barefoot, again, and Draco couldn't help but snicker and roll his eyes at this. He noticed how her eyes were shining with happiness, how she bit her lower lip, those glorious lips, when a girl asked a question about the story. How the valley of her breasts moved up and down with each breath and the soft curve of her hips under the loose skirt of her dress. And that soft golden glow over her velvety skin had.

"Don't complain about how Astoria can't tolerate her presence when you are basically undressing her with your eyes," Theo breather against his ear, and Draco pushed him away.

"Shut up, you don't know what you are talking about."

Theo lifted a brow, teasing him, as he rose the teacup to his lips. "Don't I? Because it seems that you what to take her right now."

"Theo…" Draco growled, looking briefly towards were Astoria was sitting not far from them. His best friend just smirked.

"I don't know what is stopping you. I mean, it's not like she can refuse a command, does she?" The dark-haired wizard pushed further. "Just tell her to undress and lay on your bed."

Draco put down his tea cup and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think she would let me if I did it like that."

"And since when you _think_ about what a woman wants? I thought you only cared about them spreading their legs for you," his grin grew wider, almost turning into a creepy smile. "But, my friend, you care about her, don't you? You like _her._ "

The Prince shrugged, returning his gaze to where Hermione stood. "You also like her. You had told me countless times what an amazing body she has and how you fancy her lips."

"Oh, no Draco. I mean that you like _her,_ not her body, but what's beyond it. You enjoy spending time with her, watching her read your favorite books and later discussing them. You prize the quiet afternoons in which she helps you write long letters. You relish watching her practice her Latin and the way she touches you," Theo enjoyed the lost look in his friend's gray eyes as he spoke the truth. And licking his lips, he let go of the last blow, "But maybe you are right. Maybe she doesn't want to warm your bed."

Quickly turning to face him, Draco frowned. Eureka, Theo had accomplished his mission. "What do you mean?"

"Well, haven't you seen her? I'm sure she has a boy waiting for her in Civitas. Probably a town hard worker that she sees in secret."

Annoyed, Draco stood up and stormed into the palace. What the fuck was Theo playing to? Accusing him of liking a servant. A fucking servant. He was delirious. He had never cared about the whores that he fucked, and he certainly would not start now. How could he like a servant, someone that was not from his status, someone that would never be part of his world, when he was engaged to one of the most beautiful Ladies of one of the 28 powerful Houses. And the most boring…

Exasperated, he locked himself in the study for the rest of the afternoon. Planning the tactics they would need to accomplish the negotiations to expand their territory kept his brain busy, far from the preparations to leave next day. Far from his Lady-in-waiting.

And before he realized, the night had fallen. No moon and no stars illuminated the jet-black sky, and the halls seemed darker and colder as he climbed up the stairs, to his chambers. He was exhausted and regretted dismissing Hermione, or else he could have asked her for a massage.

He entered his chambers, it was so late that not even Theo was in the sitting room. Rubbing his neck, he stepped inside his bedroom and discarded the uncomfortable suit, throwing it to the floor. Hermione would pick it up tomorrow, anyway. He slithered in his nightgown and eyed the bed. But even though he was worn out, sleep didn't call for him. He stared outside the window, the ocean and the sky so black that they seemed to merge together in a black curtain that threatened to swallow the earth.

And then, he heard it. The splash of water falling, a whisper that lingered in the air coming from the adjoined room. Hermione's room.

He walked over to the wooden door, standing still. It wasn't fully closed, and temptation won the battle in his head as he leaned against the door and spied what was happening in the room.

All his blood ran down to his body, heating him up when he finally laid eyes on Hermione. She was submerged in the tin tub, pouring water over her as her other hand moved a washing cloth over her legs, cleaning her skin. Her hair dripping water, resting against the tub. A soft lullaby escaped her lips as her hands moved up and down her soft flesh. The dim light of the candles illuminated her wet body. And he followed the moves of her hands with his eyes, hypnotized; wondering how her curves would feel under his fingers if he mimicked her hands.

He was hot and hard. Never had he witnessed something so erotic… so forbidden. Lust filled his veins, his heart pounding against his ribcage, his lungs burning for air and his erection throbbing for relief. One of his hands found its way down his body, clutching his aching core. And he stroked himself as he watched the fascinating beauty bathing.

With every passing second, every stroke, his mind went wild. Imagining entering her room, running her hands up and down her warm body, running a finger over her hot core wet only for him, finally loosing himself into the apex were her legs joined, fucking her so hard she forgets her name, making her scream his name as he takes her body without mercy.

His gray irises couldn't stop focusing in her perfect form, his jaw clenched as his hand gave him the satisfaction he needed, he craved. Hermione stood up, facing the door, without knowing Draco was behind it. He saw how the droplets of water slid down her body, from her shoulder, over her breasts and nipples, down her stomach, curving the soft triangle of flesh covered in golden curves and down her legs before falling to the floor. And with that, he came, hot liquid captured in his closed fist.

* * *

Hermione was unpacking her Master's trunks, accommodating the clothes in his closet with Ginny's help. Both working in silence to have things ready for him. Lord Nott had returned to his manor and the Red head had been assigned the duty of helping the Royal family prepare for the winter.

"Why have you been acting so strange around me?" Ginny spoke, throwing down a couple of shirts in exasperation.

It was not like Hermione _wanted_ to avoid her, but she just couldn't bear to look at her in the eyes after what she had witnessed. It was none of her business the reason Ginny had done it, and she didn't want to know. That didn't bother her. It was the fact that she had witnessed something so private, something that she had no right to see, what had her in such a mood. She sure didn't want to lose her friend over some stupid shag.

And gathering all her courage, she turned to face Ginny before speaking. "King Lucius sent me for Lord Nott and I stumbled upon something I'm sure was not supposed to see."

Ginny's brown eyes opened, realizing what Hermione had seen. Her freckled cheeks quickly turned red.

"Did you tell someone?" The red head gulped, playing with the fabric of her dress.

Hermione shook her head. "I would never. But what if Lady Daphne had opened the door? It's just, you are always complaining about how you don't like to be a Lady-in-waiting and how you can't stand the way they treat us. And then…"

Ginny glared at her, standing up. "What? Are you judging me now?" she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, and moving her head in an arrogant way. "It's not my problem you like Draco and you haven't fucked him."

"I am in no way judging you, Ginevra. It's not my business what you do. But you could have been executed," Hermione pointed out and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Well, sorry for not being perfect like you. Maybe some of us want more than to be a stupid servant for a jerk," she spat out the words, the venom going into Hermione's chest.

"Well, maybe next time I won't cover for your indiscretions."

"I don't need your help. Mind your own fucking business," she stormed towards the door, but before she left, she turned back to see Hermione, kneeled in the floor folding shirts. "Don't act like you don't want to shag your _Master_ , you are no saint." And she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

A/N: THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU GUYS! I HOPE EVERYTHING IS GOING AMAZING IN YOUR LIVES. 3

Just to clarify Civitas is the Capital City where the main palace and town are located.

Helloooooooo! Sorry for taking so long to update, but guys this week at uni has been CRAAAAZY. I thought I wouldn't survive (Literally spilled some acid over me during chem lab). But I did :) and had time to write this chapter for you. Don't panic if I take long to update (uni just sucks my soul, ya know), I will finish this story... because I already wrote the last chapter and can't wait for you to read it. But we still have at least 10 chapters to go before we get to that.

SOOOOO tell me what you think, if you are liking it or not. And I really hope you are reading between the lines because I have been throwing hints for the plot twists (yeah, more than one). ;).


	5. Chapter 5

Draco couldn't believe that negotiations with the nomadic tribe had gone so smoothly. Theo was sure a good negotiator and understood the needs and wants of the counterparts. He had been so sure that they would have to fight for the territory that a whole legion had marched north with them three weeks before. But the Head Chief of the tribe was willing to cooperate with the Kingdom of Aerglo as long as Draco promised his people paid work and food. The Prince accepted immediately, recognizing that no one would be able to work those lands better than the people that knew them like the back of their hands. And now some of the young men of the tribe were marching with him, wanting to train and be part of Aerglo's Army, the one that the other kingdoms feared and whose stories were passed from mouth to mouth like legends.

"Winter is coming early," his uncle Sirius spoke, riding in a black horse next to him. "We better hurry if we want to be home for Winter Solstice's rituals. It will bring good luck to your marriage, nephew. It's the best time to ask the Gods for an Heir."

"We are less than a day away. If we march at a faster pace, we will arrive before midnight," Theo pointed out.

Draco nodded and turned to face his best friend. "Any news from home?"

"No. Not since we were far north."

"Don't be in such hurry, Lord Nott," Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes. "You still have a lot of time before your wife gives birth. You will have an heir soon enough. You young boys are always so eager about having babies."

"The midwife said she's three months now. I guess I still have a long wait," the black haired Lord shrugged.

The midday sun was burning over their heads, but the soldiers didn't slow their step. Draco saw eager faces around him. They were returning victorious without fighting and losing lives. Winter was aimed to be harsh, and no war approached, so many men were happy to return home to spend a few calm months with their families. Everyone seemed to have someone waiting for them at home. And even Draco felt elated to be back home, because he knew warm arms were waiting for him. Not the ones from his _lovely_ bride, but the ones that didn't belong to him. The ones he didn't have any right to long for but did anyways.

"You seem happy to return, nephew. A Lady is waiting for you?" his uncle joked, elbowing him in the ribs.

"I hope so," Draco tried to joke back, imagining a pair of chocolate eyes greeting him upon his return.

"Your bride is not going anywhere," Sirius laughed, and looked around for a few seconds. "Where's Potter? Wasn't he supposed to be marching with us?"

Draco shook his head. "He is marching with the Commanders, in the front lines."

There was a halt in the march and Theo narrowed his eyes, trying to see what was happening at the front lines. "Something is wrong." Their horses stopped, waiting for instructions.

Commotion started rising while Draco heard the metallic sound of swords being dragged out, followed by the grunts of men fighting. In less than a second the lines were broken, soldiers fighting to protect his monarch, screams filled the air as blood stained the alabaster earth of Aerglo's Kingdom. And before he realized what was happening, before he could drag his sword out, before he could turn to see the man approaching him, Draco felt hot pain spread over his left shoulder, screaming. Blood was quick to spill, staining his clothes. His horse began shifting in panic, and without enough strength in his arms to control it, Draco fell to the ground hitting his head.

He turned to see his aggressor, and the olive-skinned man smirked, lifting his dagger to slash him again. "The enemy lives within your walls."

But before he could finish his act, Sirius beheaded him with a sharp and swift move of his sword. "Rebels!" Sirius shouted as Theo leaned to pick an unconscious prince from the ground.

* * *

Winter was early. Summer had ended less than a month ago and Hermione saw how the first snowflakes were falling outside. The crescent moon seemed to smile at her, almost asking why she was awake so late. She knew that the sun would be up in a couple of hours and that Lady Astoria would wear her out by giving an infinite list of chores, and yet she couldn't fall asleep.

Lady Astoria had made her life impossible ever since her Master left to acquire new territory in the far north. When they returned to Civitas, after spending the summer in the palace by the sea, Hermione had not been sent back to the Servant's Quarters. She knew something had changed. She had been assigned the adjoined room that had never had an occupant, but her Master didn't give an explanation with the command. And three days later he had departed with the Legion following his track, leaving her to deal alone with his crazy bride, who had made a tantrum of Hermione staying in the Prince's Chambers.

The faint sound of a bell braking the sepulchral silence of the night reached her ears, like a whisper telling her to run, to escape. She hurried towards the main door of the chamber and opened it. The bell rang again and again, the castle walls seemed to tremble over the echo of the bell. Everyone started coming out of their rooms, men keeping their woman behind them, as if the enemy had already penetrated the thick walls. Her blood ran cold.

Was this war? Were they being attacked?

The bell that hung on top of the main tower continued to ring, low and frightening. Every passing second was a torture. Bad news were coming and she just stood by the door, in her nightgown, not being able to move. And then she heard it, the yell of one of the guards at the main gate, so loud in the night that she was sure all castle heard it. "The Prince has been injured! The Crown is falling! The Prince has been injured!"

Panic filled the palace. Steps were going up and down the stairs, many commands being shouted, some asked for a physician and others for a priest. All candles were lighted, illuminating the dark hallways. Everything around her seemed to buzz with hysteria. General Sirius was searching frantically for the King and Queen. Lord Nott was beyond himself, screaming at everyone that crossed his path. Moments later Hermione saw the worst nightmare. She saw how soldiers carried her Master up the stairs, towards his chambers, unconscious and covered in blood. His blood leaving a trace of droplets behind, stanning the neat marble floors.

"Bring me water and gauze!" she shouted to one servant as she ran to the bedroom, moving away the cover so they could lay him down.

He only hissed at the pain when his body touched the mattress, but didn't open his eyes. He was covered in dirt, his handsome face bruised on the side an ugly shade of blue, his shirt damped in blood and the metallic and the nauseating smell of his blood filled the room. He was losing so much blood she was surprised he hadn't died yet. The soldiers were just standing there, not doing anything, just waiting for the physician. She was not letting him die, not now, not when there was no other heir to the crown. He was not going to die because of these useless men.

"Give me your knife and move you idiot!" Hermione yelled at one soldier, she could feel the anger spilling from her body. He just looked at her, shocked, and without pronouncing a word he handed her a silver dagger.

Hermione ripped the fabric of his shirt with the dagger and she noticed the pitiful attempt of bandage they had covered him with, and that only angered her even more.

"You are so stupid you can't even put a proper bandage," she shoved the soldier aside. He probably wasn't the one responsible for the bandage, but she didn't care. She was going to make sure these idiots paid for their foolishness after her Master was alright.

She dipped the gauze in the ice cold water, wringing it, before pressing the deep cut on his shoulder, hoping to stop the blood.

"Please Master, stay here," she muttered under her breath, as she replaced the gauze.

General Sirius entered the bedroom, followed by the physician that quickly approached the dying prince. Moments later Queen Narcissa entered the room, followed by her sisters, Lady Bellatrix and Lady Andromeda. Their pained expressions said it all. Draco had huge dark circles under his eyes and was so pale after losing so much blood, he looked more dead than alive. Sirius narrowed his eyes towards Hermione, as she continued to press the gauze against the open wound, but didn't comment anything.

"Oh, my boy," the Queen sobbed, covering her mouth with her hands. Lady Andromeda placed a hand over her shoulder, to prevent her from running to her son or maybe to catch her if she fainted.

"Ladies, I can't work with so many people here," the physician took an amber bottle out of his bag. "Everyone out! I'll inform you what happens."

Sirius softly pushed the ladies out of the room and shouted to the soldiers to guard the door, servants scurried away before the General's anger unleashed on them. He turned to lock his eyes with Hermione's once more. He looked like he had finally understood something, and just nodded before closing the door. And soon it was just Hermione, the physician and her Master in the room.

"You know anything about medicine, girl?" he questioned harshly, and she could only nod, the huge lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. "Well, help me clean the wound, I'll have to stitch it."

Hermione washed her hands in the tin bowl of water, before opening the amber bottle. The strong chemical smell making her dizzy. She damped a gauze with it and ran it over the cut. She could see his flesh under the open skin and resisted the urge to close her eyes at the sight. He whimpered, almost inaudible, as she cleaned the wound. The physician took a needle from a small leather case and she thanked that her Master was almost unconscious, or else he would never let the sharp object penetrate his skin.

Unwilling to watch as his flesh was sewed together, she damped a cloth in water and place it over his pale forehead, moving his platinum hair out of the way. Faded grunts escaped his lips as the needle moved in and out his pale skin. Hermione's heart ached, she knew there was a high chance he would not wake up tomorrow. She intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand.

"Well, it will leave a scar, but that's the least of our worries," the physician spoke, as he cleaned his hands covered in blood with a handkerchief.

"What do you mean? Are you just leaving him to die? There must be something else you can do," the words left her lips like a plea, and if he noticed, he didn't comment it.

"I'm afraid I can't do more, my Lady. Just try to keep his fever at bay, I'll come tomorrow morning to check on him, if he survives the night. Don't let anyone in, he needs to rest," he told her, before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. And Hermione just stayed there, kneeled against his bed, with his hand clasped between hers.

* * *

"Any news?" General Sirius' head poked from the door. Hermione turned to see him and shook her head.

He stepped into the bedroom, the sound of his boots against the floor, echoing in the quiet room. Hermione returned her eyes to her Master. He still had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling so slowly that he appeared to be just a breath away from the other world. She had stayed, sitting by his side and taking care of him for what felt like a century, watching as the sun rise and fall day after another outside of the window.

General Sirius dragged a chair to sit by her side, his elbows on top of his knees and his back hunched in defeat. "Why are you still here?"

Hermione frowned at his question. "It's my job to be here, General."

"No. Substitutes have been offered, so you can rest, but you've denied any help."

"I'm his servant. No one knows how to take care of him better than me," she replied, still staring at the peaceful face of her Master.

"How long have you been working for my nephew?" General Sirius crossed his arms over his chest.

"Almost nine months."

He just nodded, and they fell silent for a few more minutes before he spoke again.

"After such erratic days, it feels peaceful to be here," the older man commented.

"I can only imagine what chaos awaits behind the door, General," her voice was barely a whisper.

"Having the only heir to the crown lying almost dead on a bed is not a nice prospect for any kingdom. They were rebels, you know? The ones that attacked? But they were not free rebels as they refused to talk about their _leader_ when we captured them."

Hermione nodded and turned to face him. "The thirst of power and the jealousy behind are the paths that guide men to destruction."

A small tired smile curled the General's lips as he leaned back in the chair. "You speak as if you had lived a thousand lives, my lady."

Hermione shook her head, looking him in the eyes. "Me? What life could I had lived? I'm a servant. And don't call me a _lady_ , as you know well I'm anything but that, General."

"I've heard what happened when we were in the north. I think the lashing was unnecessary."

Hermione shrugged. "Wasn't I born for this, after all. To be punished and serve my superiors?"

"The naiveté of youth has made you forget, my _lady_ , that one is not what is born to be, but what one has grown to be. There are ladies searching for food on the streets and rats sleeping in silk beds. I've only heard about the strong woman that helps my nephew, and I'm afraid I don't see that woman here," he lifted a brow, placing a hand over her shoulder. "You don't have to be like them, Lady Hermione. The flower that blossoms even in adversity, is the most beautiful."

He squeezed her shoulder before leaving her alone, again, with her master.

* * *

Every passing day felt colder, snow falling heavily outside, covering Aerglo with a layer of white. The fireplace was lit, warming the bedroom, and she had made sure to cover her Master with enough quilts. The last thing they needed was him getting the flu.

Hermione was sitting by his bed, holding his hand in hers. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. Her lips softly brushed his knuckles as she read out loud one of her favorite books. The dim light just enough for her to distinguish the letters printed on the old pages. Her mind going far away to the old cities described in the book.

"There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover's whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad," she whispered against his warm hand, as her eyes scanned the words.

Hermione turned her attention to the window, the white flakes falling from the sky. And those warm days by the sea seemed so far away. That kiss on the gardens felt more like a fantasy. And a love as described in books seemed more like a long-forgotten memory.

She wondered, for the first time in years, if her mother had lived, if her mother hadn't been killed accused of adultery, that maybe her life would be different. Lashes wouldn't be healing in her back, she would not have to keep secrets. There wouldn't be a reason to hide. She was forever grateful with Eirene, and all she had done for her. But maybe, just maybe, she would be a free woman. To go and live as she pleased.

"Don't stop, I enjoy when you read for me," a husky voice muttered.

She turned to face the voice and the air was caught in her throat when she met a pair of silver eyes staring at her. A pained, but playful smile was on his lips.

"Master…" she breathed out. Realizing she was still holding his hand, she let go, as a warm blush settled in her cheeks.

He tried to move, but only groaned when the muscles of his arm tensed.

"You were attacked, Master. And the physician had to stitch your arm. He said you are healing well, as the sword didn't cause mayor damage. We only have to wait for the cut to scar. You didn't wake up for almost a week…"

Hermione stood up, and softly brushed his hair out of his forehead. She eyed the door, wondering if she could send one of the guards to inform General Sirius that the Prince had awoken. Maybe she could tell a servant to go look for the physician. And to bring her Master something to eat.

"Don't."

"I'm sorry?"

Her Master grabbed her hand again, and his tired eyes looked straight to her face. "Don't call them. I want to have peace for a while."

"But, Master—"

"You can tell them first thing in the morning. Just finish reading."

He nodded towards the chair next to his bed. Reluctantly, Hermione sat down, picked up the book, and whispered the words in front of her. Her lips softly brushing his knuckles, as he hadn't pulled away.

* * *

Draco had been right about wanting to have peace, because as soon as Hermione delivered the news, he had not been left alone one fucking second. His mother and Astoria spent hours upon hours driving him crazy with their shallow chat, and on top of that visitors came in and out his chambers as they pleased. And he was sure that the only truly worried about him were closest friends and family, and the other Lords and Ladies had just come to later gossip.

Hermione adjusted his arm, so it rested comfortably in the sling, and then placed the silver crown over his head. She smiled softly, her golden eyes shining in the afternoon sun.

It had only been three days since he had woken up, and now he was heading to one of the temples, to ask Cybele the goddess of fertility to bless his future marriage as the Winter Solstice took place. He rode his horse, with Astoria by his side, as his people greeted them in the streets in the cold afternoon. Hermione walked a few steps behind him, along with all the people escorting them.

His uncle helped him down the horse as they reached the bottom of the stairs that lead to the temple. Immaculate white, covered with a thick layer of snow, the temple's columns were erected. Majestic the front was decorated with paintings of the moon cycle and the story of two lovers, ancient prayers to the goddess were carved into the marble walls, and the main steps were embellished with copper flowers leading to a very ornate door, where the priestess was already waiting for them.

Astoria placed a hand on Draco's good arm as he led her up the stairs.

"Welcome my Prince, the gods seem to favor you today," the priestess greeted them.

They entered the palace and kneeled before the fountain, from which water emerged and fell on Cybele's statute, which held the fertility flame, always lit, on her right hand.

"Please, rise your prayers to Cybele, as she shall listen. The sun is going down and the ritual must begin."

"Nos orare, Cybele, ut matrimonium benedicat nobis. Ut benedicat tibi fructus nostrae unionem. Nam filii nostri sicut estis servivit nobis, et serviemus tibi. Et ipsi erunt poblnado terrae, ut desiderio tuo." Draco and Astoria whispered, dipping their hands on the crystal-clear water, cupping some and bringing it up for the priestess to examine.

"Draco," she took his hands, looking intensely at the water. "You have a kind heart, and care for your people deeply. Cybele knows that an heir is what you truly desire. She will reward you with a fruitful womb to hold your heir. But you must promise her to raise that heir to be kind to your people, as they will need a kind heart to rule them." She told him, as with a dagger she cut her finger, releasing a drop of her blood into the water that his hands held.

She turned to Astoria, and inspecting the water in her hands, the priestess frowned. "Cybele sees that your heart is stained with jealousy and anger. No heir is to be conceived in a hard womb. Your actions are not true to your feelings. Unless you change your way, unless you love as you proclaim you do, the goddess will not do you any favors. But don't worry, as if you change and clean your soul, she will reward you with many heirs. You have to warm your heart to provide a welcoming womb for an heir."

One drop of the priestess blood fell into Astoria's hands and the sky turned dark, as night had fallen upon the kingdom.

* * *

Hermione walked up the main stairs, determined to take the tea tray she was carrying up to the Queen's chambers. She looked up and rolled her eyes. Ginny was standing at the end of the stairs, a basket full of clothes in her arms. Hermione walked past her, not even bothering to look at her. She was not in the mood to deal with drama today, as she was headed for a dreadful afternoon at one of the Queen's tea parties.

But the gods had other plans for her. "Hermione," Ginny called after her, a few feet behind.

Sighing, she stopped and turned to face the redhead. "Yes?" she asked coldly, looking down at the girl in front of her.

"I was wondering if I could have a word with you?" Ginny's brown eyes were staring at the basket, as her hands fidgeted with it nervously.

"I must go with the Queen—"

"I was a fool, Hermione. I should have not snapped at you when you were just worried about me. I don't want to lose a friend over a stupid choice. I am really sorry."

"I never accused you of anything. I didn't judge your actions and I would never betray your trust, you should have known that," Hermione pointed out. Ginny stepped closer, looking guilty.

"I know," she whispered. "But I was angry and felt like an idiot. After all, you were right."

Hermione's façade softened, and a small smile appeared on her lips. "I don't want to keep up with this, as you said it was a fool thing to fight over. And I did my share of shouting, too. But I bet you can agree with me that this is not the best moment to talk. Maybe tomorrow over lunch, I'll be down the servant's quarters," she responded, and Ginny nodded, before leaving Hermione to continue with her duties.

Pushing the door with her back, Hermione entered the Queen's sitting room. The three Greengrass Ladies as well as Lady Bellatrix and Lady Andromeda turned to see her. The Queen's piercing, cruel and cold eyes were fixated on her as she placed the tray on the small coffee table in the middle of the room. Hermione bowed, not a single noise escaping her lips, before arranging the china.

"It seems that a good lashing was all that was needed to fix your attitude," Lady Bellatrix spoke nonchalantly as she moved the small silver spoon, sweetening her tea.

Hermione only nodded as she placed a cup of tea before the Queen.

"Look at me," Queen Narcissa spoke harshly. Hermione looked up, meeting the sky blue eyes of the monarch, not a single trace of emotion in her well kept face. "I hope you now understand your position. Lady Astoria is to be the wife of _my_ son and I is to be treated as such. I know Draco is rather soft with you and doesn't control your attitude, but as you have experienced I'm not afraid to use a firm hand on the misbehaving," she lifted a brow, daring Hermione to remember the lashing she had gone through when her Mater was far from home. "And I'm not afraid to use it again."

Hermione just nodded and bowed before exiting the room, the Ladies following her moves with her mocking eyes.

* * *

Draco entered his bedroom, after dinner, and noticed that Hermione was already there waiting for him. She was sitting by the fireplace. Her small frame in a plain blue dress, her hair clipped at the back of her head. Her fingers softly going over the pages of an old book. The flicker of the flames illuminating her doll face. He walked over to her, the soft lavender smell of her skin lingering in the air. Looking up at him, she closed the book, placing it on the table, before standing and walking towards the wardrobe to take out a night gown.

Without pronouncing a word, she took off his jacket, placing it over the fainting couch. "Why weren't you at dinner?" he asked, looking down at her as she folded the pieces of clothing.

"I wasn't hungry, Master," she replied, as she kneeled, helping him out of his shoes.

Her fingers moved over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Draco swallowed hard as she bit into her lower lip, the soft flesh turning red. He grabbed her by the chin and Hermione looked up, meeting his eyes. His thumb ran over her lower lip, liberating it from her teeth, swollen and moist. Brushing her skin, he moved his hand to the back of her head, pulling her hair out of the copper comb holding it. Caramel waves fell down her back, falling over her shoulder. Draco took a step closer, so that her body was pressed against his naked chest. Her eyes never leaving his as one of his hands rested on her hip, squeezing her curves.

His mind was clouded with lust and the smell of her skin. Her warm body irradiating heat and he only longed to feel every inch of her skin. To satisfy the hunger that had been consuming him since she pleased him in the bathtub so many months ago. And before he could think better and back down, he succumbed to his deepest hunger. Leaning over he captured her lips in his.

But it was not a soft kiss. His lips attacked hers, their teeth clashing together as they kissed. And he was surprised to see that Hermione returned the kiss with the same amount of passion. His hands pushing her hips against his. Her hands found their way up his chest, to intertwine at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. His left hand snaked up, brushing her breasts over the fabric of her dress, and a low moan rung in her throat, sending hot blood rushing down his body towards his erection.

Gently, he pushed Hermione over to the bed. Never breaking the kiss, his hands undid the lace strips that kept her dress over her body, while taking small steps over towards the mattress. The dress fell down, pooling at her feet, and Draco broke the kiss to look at her.

The thin cloth of her underdress left nothing to the imagination, as he could see every inch of her skin underneath it. His finger went down, caressing the skin of her thighs as he played with the hem of the short, translucent dress. Slowly he looked up, printing the sight of her in his brain. The toned legs, that led up to her warm core, the soft skin of her stomach, the beautiful milky and firm breasts that offered pink nipples, the freckles covering her shoulders. His eyes stopped on hers, silver meeting gold. Her soul was burning behind them, but not with anger, but with lust. With a swift move he stripped her of the last item of clothing covering her body before pushing her backwards with force into the mattress.

Draco laid on top of her, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss as his hands traveled up and down her body, enjoying the sensation of her soft skin. The lust filling his veins was too much to resist, he wanted to possess her. To fuck her until she screamed his name, begging for more. His hands squeezed her breasts, fingers pinched her left nipple until it pebbled under his touch and another moan left her lips. His hot, erratic breath mixing with hers as he tried to control his body. But she was as desperate as he was, her hands all over his body, nails scratching his skin.

He kissed her jaw, down her neck, biting and licking every inch of her skin. "I waited so long for this," he breathed out as he brushed his nose down her jaw, over the valley of her breasts, down the soft skin of her torso. Her smell was intoxicating, clouding his judgment (if there was any left of it). He groaned when the musky smell of her arousal hit his nostrils.

His lips went up, kissing her nipple as his teeth bit on the soft flesh of her breasts. Her fingers dug into his back, as she arched her body towards him, moaning. He sat back on his legs, admiring the piece of art before him. Her face slightly flushed. He placed a finger over her lips and dragged it down her body, sending a shiver down her spine. Draco smirked as goosebumps appeared over her skin as his finger went lower. Hermione watched him fixedly as he dragged his slender finger over the slit of her hot core, collecting her moist.

"Seems I'm not the only one that has waited for this. Look how wet you are for me."

One of his fingers entered her core. "Master…" the world rolled out of her tongue, a sight mixed with a moan, as she pushed her hips up towards him, her eyes closed.

Draco licked his lips feeling her tight warmth envelope his finger. He folded his finger slightly, so he scratched her wall as he moved his finger in and out, in and out her core, his thumb caressing the bundle of nerves above her entrance. Soft moans left Hermione's swollen red lips and he felt her center pulsing. Soon another finger followed, and he picked up his pace, enjoying the hot lava around his digits. And Draco knew he was driving her crazy as whimpers left her lips, her hands pushing him closer, her legs trying to get a hold of him.

And then it happened. Her core exploded, a low moan leaving her chest as her flesh tightened around his fingers. Her face scrunched in pure bliss. Oh yeah, the first bite to the forbidden fruit only left him wanting more.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly, trying to catch her breath. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you are going to forget your own name," he placed his fingers wet with her essence over her mouth, and like a good girl she ran her tongue down his fingers, cleaning them. "You have been playing games with me for long enough, but tonight I get my revenge."

His right hand found her hip, grabbing her robustly, positioning her before him. He rubbed his length up and down her slit and she whimpered in anticipation.

"Beg," he demanded, and she opened her eyes lifting her head a little to look him in the eye. "I want you begging for me to fuck you senseless."

A dark shadow crossed her face, as her lips curved into a wicked smile, her caramel eyes burning with lust. She pushed herself up on her elbows, before reaching out to run her hand over his arm. "Master," she bit her lip slowly, staring at his eyes, "I want you to fuck me. Hard."

That was everything he needed to lose his control completely, falling into his most primal instinct. He didn't know where the sweet girl had gone, but he liked this version of Hermione better. And with a sharp move he penetrated her, growling at the sensation of her all around him. He hoped to find some resistance, but he found none.

He moved fast, his hips crashing with hers, the sound of their skin coming together echoing in the room. His lips found hers, a wild kiss with their mouth fighting, lips being bitten. His hands went to her back, pushing her closer, her breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust, brushing against him. Her nails scratching his back so hard he was sure blood appeared. Her legs tangled around his hips, her feet pushing him deeper. Sweat rolling down their bodies as the animalistic sounds coming from them, mixed with the sound of their erratic breaths and the sound of their bodies grinding together. Her moans resounded against his chest.

It seemed that close wasn't close enough as their hands pushed, scratched and squeezed every inch of skin they could reach. Their lips leaving marks behind, teeth biting hard enough to draw out blood.

"Master!" she screamed, her legs shaking and her nails digging into his biceps.

And he touched heaven, following her, white stars shining behind his eyelids, her core clenching around him as he tore her apart with the last thrust. Warm liquid leaving him and filling her.

* * *

A/N: Weeeelllllll here you have it. I know many of you had been wating for this! thanks for all the support and all the reviews (I read them all). This chapter is dedicated to you. Sorry for not updating last week but I almost had no sleep because of homework, but I hope to be able to post another chapter before sunday (fingers crossed). Thanks for reading and don't forget to tell me what you think. XOXO

PS: the quote Hermione is reading is from an actual book... guess which one ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Draco ran his left finger up and down her right arm, enjoying the warmth of her skin. Her fingers ran through his wet hair, moving the platinum locks out of his forehead. Some of the water spilled over the rim of the bathtub as he shifted under her touch. Hermione was sitting over his lap, with each of her legs at the sides of his hips. Her hands softly roaming his body as she washed the remains of their encounter.

"You didn't tell me you weren't a virgin," he mumbled, closing his eyes and resting his head against the tub.

Her fingers stopped moving over the scar on his shoulder, and he could almost _feel_ her frown. "After almost a month you are asking this?"

He knew it was somewhat laughable to ask her when, indeed, he had been fucking her for almost a month. And he had loved every bloody second of it. He had had a bite of his forbidden fruit, and he had wanted more. He was insatiable. Addicted to the smell of her hair, the sensation of her soft skin against his and the way she moaned his name. At the beginning she had been reluctant to acknowledge what had happened, afraid of the consequences, afraid of the punishment. But a couple of kisses later she had been on his bed again.

He opened his eyes, watching as she had a playful smile on her lips and one of her brows up. He pushed her softly, smiling. "So, are you going to tell me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, mocking annoyance. "Why so interested in my status?"

He chuckled, and her fingers resumed their path. "Well, _Lady_ Hermione, as future King I worry about the people that serve me and my family, and I must know everything that goes under my roof. After all, aren't you called _Ladies_ for a reason? Aren't you as pure as the white roses that blossom in summer?"

"Well, _Master_ , you must remember that I was not meant to be a _Lady_ and therefore didn't have to live by those expectations. And I don't think that you will ever know everything that happens under your roof."

Draco just lifted a brow at her response and after a few seconds she sighed. "I was sixteen and head over heels for a boy. He was twenty and had more than a couple of girls downstairs gushing over him, including myself. He was a Manservant for a Lord, or so he claimed to be," her eyes were fixated on the skin of his chest, her fingers caressing him mindlessly. "He was so charming. He knew how to get a girl fall for him, that's for sure. I was naïve and crazy about the attention he was giving me. It only took a month of pretty words before he took away my innocence. He was sent off to the southern province. I was so heartbroken after his departure, cried for days… Well, that was until I found out that four girls were bearing him a child. Then I felt stupid."

His pale brown eyebrows came together. "I suppose Eirene doesn't know about this."

"Oh, no," she sat back, pushing her body away from his, her hands flat against his chest. "She would've killed me with her bare hands," shaking her head she laughed.

"I'm sure you prefer my bare hands," smirking, he pushed her down the tub, so now he was the one hovering over her. His hands travelled down her body, holding her hips down. A second later his lips were at the base of her neck, kissing, biting and licking the soft skin covering her collar.

Her hands grabbed his shoulders and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Are you always so rapacious?"

"I'd say insatiable," his husky voice said against her skin.

Hermione tried to move to accommodate under him, but Draco quickly reacted. His right hand captured both her hands by the wrists, holding them above her head as his left hand pushed her hips against the white ivory of the bathtub, pinning her. His knee pushed her legs apart, so he could rest between them. He looked up, his lips traveling down the milky skin of her breasts, and he met with a pair of golden eyes glowing with lust.

"The first flowers are blossoming. You know the consequences will be worse when you get married," she whispered, between a moan, as he pushed himself between her folds. She arched her back, pressing her body against his, shaking with the want to move under his grip. "Spring is comin—" Draco thrusted again, with much force and she whimpered.

"Let's worry about my marriage when the day comes," he captured her soft lips between his, biting on her lower one. "Let me enjoy you for now," he started to move in and out of her, and her body relaxed under him, letting pleasure take over her body erasing her worries.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, her spine straight and her head held high.

Her Master had sent her to his study to gather some books and return them to their respective places in the main library. But she had not expected to encounter an intruder in her Master's study, as no-one was allowed in without his permission. And she never imagined that this intruder would be no other than Lord Potter.

He stood up, his green eyes staring coldly at her. Some of the drawers were pulled out, and various papers were scattered around. Lord Potter had been prying her Master's things, and by the way the small desk stood, he had tried and failed to open the drawer that her Master kept locked at all times.

He pursed his lips, glaring at her. "Turn down your tone. That's not the way to talk to your superiors. Or perhaps you are up to spend a night down in the dungeons after a session of lashing?"

Hermione opened her mouth to snap back at him, but quickly closed it after remembering the last time Queen Narcissa had ordered for her to be lashed. She bit her lower lip, looking away.

Lord Potter approached her, and grabbed her chin, his fingernails digging on her cheeks. Turning to face him, Hermione saw how his face was clouded with darkness. "You are not so brave when your Master is not around to protect you, are you?" he spoke through gritted teeth, his hot breath crashing against Hermione's face.

His hand pushed her with so much strength, that she fell back on her back, her palms scraping the floor. "Be a good girl and keep your nose out of the King's business."

He turned on his heels, exiting the room and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Hearing the muffled voice behind the wooden door, Hermione stepped into the room and slowly approached the ebony desk. General Sirius nodded towards her, acknowledging her presence. He returned his gaze to the papers and the map before him, his left hand picking up the wine cup and bringing it towards his lips.

He took a sip of his wine and sighed before speaking. "What brings you here, my little flower?"

For the past few months she had grown fond of General Sirius. He was a breath of fresh air between the stone-cold faces that inhabited the castle. And his fatherly instinct had picked her up, like a little girl knocking at his door asking for someone to protect her. He usually escorted her out of the castle, their arms locked, standing by her side as she walked the streets of Civitas and she ran errands. Hermione always welcomed the tender but wise advice that he gave to her. That was the reason she was standing in his office.

"I am tired of being weak, General. I am tired of being what everyone expects me to be and not who I really am. This," she gestured at her dress in despair, "is not what I am."

General Sirius stood up, frowning, and quickly went to close the door. He turned on his heels, watching her carefully. "Hermione, be careful of what you say. People could misread your words and could accuse you of being a rebel. And you know very well that I can't stop executions of people that presumably attempt against the crown."

She knew that he was right; that everyone was denying it, but the truth was that the crown was hanging by a thread. But her soul was tired of being pushed back, the flames growing stronger with every passing day.

"You know better than anyone that I am a devoted servant. That I would never harm my Master," the words left her lips through gritted teeth.

General Sirius smiled softly. "I know that. But I am very aware that there are people that are not your Master pushing you to the limit."

Hermione turned to face the window. She would never admit it, but he was right. "I—I just want to be myself again. You were right. I'm not the same than before. I'm not the strong and wise woman that was helping her Master. Now I'm just a façade. I just want to be that girl again. I want to be strong. _Feel_ strong. I want to walk down the hall as a servant, yes, but with my head held high."

His big callused hand patted her shoulder. "My little flower, it seems that you are feeling guilty over something."

Hermione turned to face him. She knew what his words were implying, but didn't know how to respond without giving it away.

He shook his head, shrugging. "The devil knows because he is the devil, but he knows more because he's old."

"I do not feel guilty about it. I feel guilty because I don't really care about the consequences…" Hermione trailed off. "But that's not the point. I want to be myself again."

They both stood in silence, standing before the window, watching as people in Civitas followed their daily life and the sea far from them stood still under the cloudless day.

Taking a deep breath Hermione broke the silence. "Show me how to fight."

"What?"

General Sirius turned to see her, bewildered.

"Show me how to fight," her eyes sparkled with possibility. "Show me how to use a sword and how to fight in a war. And if the day comes where you go to the front as the enemy approaches the Kingdom, take me with you. Take me to fight and to prove myself."

"But—But I can't do that," he shook his head. "It's not proper of a Lady to fight, to hold a sword, to march with an army."

Hermione pushed his hand away and pulled at her hair. "I am not a Lady! I am not this! I want to fight! I want to march with the legion! I want to be _me_! I don't want to sit here waiting for someone to save me, like all Ladies do. Don't you understand? I was born _alone_. I was not born into this life. I have to save myself, by my own hand."

She saw how a dozen emotions crossed the General's face. She could see the dilemma going inside his head. Choosing between what was proper and what was the best for her. His shoulders slouched, giving up.

"Alright," he sighed. "I will train you, teach you how to use a sword."

Hermione couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips. But before her excitement could go further, he grabbed her by the shoulders. His face turned dead serious, a dark shadow hovering over him.

"No one can know, Hermione. We will train before the sun rises and we will keep this a secret between us."

Hermione nodded, and exited his office with her head held high.

* * *

Outside the castle, the gardens were plagued with blossoming flowers. A swirl of colors and scents. Lords and Ladies were lining the Great Hall, flashing expensive silk gowns and jewels. The first round of wine cups was served. Lords talked to each other, bragging about their business, money, lovers… Ladies gossiped, leaning gently over each other, stealing mischievous looks towards the Lady that was subject of their conversation. Manservants were dressed in their best suits and Ladies-in-waiting wore long embellished dresses. White flowers could be seen everywhere. The King and Queen, his parents, were sitting on the throne, over the dais.

The priests entered the room, walking down the long green carpet, until they reached the first step of the dais and greeted the monarchs.

Taking a last glance at the Hall, Draco hopped to see the soft caramel curls of his most loyal servant. But she was nowhere to be seen. For the last week Hermione had been distant, figuring a way out of his arms. Never staying with him alone, unless it was necessary.

The priest turned to greet the people a sepulchral silence falling over the Hall. Their mouths chanting, praying to the gods as Astoria walked towards him. The cream dress embroidered with silver, displacing various elements belonging to the House of Malfoy Coat of Arms. A bouquet of white freesias on her hands.

He hated freesias.

The crown over his head suddenly felt heavy, throwing all his new duties over his shoulders.

He took her hand, brushing his lips against her knuckles, and they turned to face the priests.

Everyone remained silent.

"Pone deos precor, ut nos ad nuptias ut benedicam."

Draco watched Astoria out of the corner of his eye, a satisfied smile curved her red lips.

"Di enim convenerant separare mortalium."

Lord and Lady Greengrass were standing a few feet from them, their faces pleased.

Sirius showed no emotion, his arms crossed over his chest.

His father walked down the stairs of the dais, moving his hand before them, approving the union.

"Et aqua asperguntur deum suum. Et sanguinem qui defendat."

Draco blinked a couple of times. Hermione approached the priest, a silver bowl filled with water in her hands. Her body displayed on a sky blue backless-dress. Her hair falling in soft curls reaching her waist and a crown of white and pink daisies adorning her head. The sun coming through the window forming a halo around her. A beautiful vision, and by the whispers behind him, he could tell he wasn't the only one that noticed.

"Sanguis de fideli servo. Sanguis enim cura est de vobis."

One of the priestesses pulled a dagger out. Taking Hermione's hand, she dragged the blade over the soft skin of his servant. His silver eyes found her gold ones. A few drops of her blood fell into the water.

More prayers were said. Her soul burning behind her chocolate irises.

The brown-eyed woman, that had warmed his bed, bowed before him and Astoria, lifting the silver bowl. His stomach clenched at the thought of her blood. _Her_ blood was going to bless his marriage.

Blood of a loyal servant.

Blood of an innocent soul.

Blood of his sins.

Draco dipped the ring in the cold water before sliding it into Astoria's finger. His bride repeated the action.

The priests blessed the union.

* * *

"Why her blood?" Draco asked, barely above a whisper, so no one around them could hear.

The music and laughter were loud, everyone enjoying his wedding reception. Astoria walked around the room, a small tiara over her head, flashing her ring at every Lady present. Fake laughs and shallow conversation were heard everywhere.

His uncle placed his cutlery down and raised a brow. "Any problem with the ritual?"

Sirius smirked, his eyes flashing something that said _I know something you don't_. Draco glared at him.

"I was just surprised it was her blood. I thought you would pick someone else," he shrugged, trying to play it off. Pretend he didn't care.

A pale blue dress twirled around, in the center of the ballroom. Her back showing a long pearly scar. Draco saw how Hermione was passed from arms to arms, every man enchanted by her, wanting to get a minute of her attention while they danced. Her face glowing with pure happiness, laughing as another gentleman got a hold of her before leading her around the ballroom, dancing.

Sirius followed his gaze, and grinned when his dark eyes landed on the beauty Draco was admiring.

"I didn't choose her."

Draco turned to face him, perplexed. "What?"

"I didn't choose her," Sirius brought the wine cup to his lips, taking a long gulp. "She offered to be your blood intercessor. I think I could never find someone better than her. She is devoted and loyal to you like no other and her soul is not tinted."

Draco shook his head. "She's not a virgin."

Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Do you think I was born yesterday. Of course, I know she's not a virgin. Not after being in your arms, anyway," a sour feeling pursed Draco's lips, but his uncle didn't pay attention to it. "Not being a virgin doesn't mean her soul is tinted. Blood has never been shed by her hands, never has she been part of any crime and, the most important thing, the priests said the gods approved her."

"But why did she offer to do it?"

"I don't know, but you will have time to ask her. After all, she's the one that has to get you ready to consummate your marriage."

Draco had forgotten about that. He _had_ to make his marriage legal in all aspects. He had to bring an Heir soon, as the whisper of war was growing louder. If he died without an Heir it would be the end of Aerglo. His people would suffer under the hands of a tyrant.

He knew that his father had committed many mistakes during his reign. That many of his people were hungry and needed shelter. But Draco hopped to amend those situations and guide the Kingdom to a better path when his time to take over the throne came. None of that would be possible if the Kingdom was taken over by the Longbottoms or any other ruler. He needed to get Astoria pregnant, soon.

His uncle was right. As the night had fallen and the full moon shone in the dark sky, he stood in the male cabinet, attached to his new bedroom. The one he was meant to share with Astoria. Hermione was still wearing her ball dress. Carefully, she took of the crown from his head and proceeded to undress him. He just watched as her delicate but skillful fingers stripped the clothes from his body.

"Sirius told me you offered to be my blood intercessor," he muttered as she slipped the nightgown over his head.

"I did."

Turning around to fold his clothes, she nodded. She brought a bowl and a pitcher, pouring warm water over his hands, cleaning them.

"Why?" he took the small towel hanging from her forearm, drying his hands.

She opened a little amber bottle, and the strong citric smell hit his nose. Some drops of oil were spilled over her hands, before she rubbed it up and down his arms and chest.

"General Sirius told me that he hadn't found someone worthy of being your blood intercessor. No one was loyal enough to you. So, I asked him if I could fulfil that position, as I thought no one would serve you as I do. No one would spill their blood for you. Naturally, he accepted," her tone was nonchalant, almost as if she didn't care.

"You did all the rituals?"

"Yes, I did Master."

Draco imagined Hermione on her knees praying to the gods, being submerged in the pool at the temple, examined by the priest and following all the rituals.

"I think it is kind of ironic, you being my blood intercessor. After all, you are the face of my sins."

"Don't flatter me, Master. We both know that even though you prefer me, many other women have warmed your bed when I wasn't able to. I believe they deserve credit for your sins, as well."

Draco frowned at her words, but Hermione didn't take notice. She appeared to be levitating around the room, her dress moving with her, as she got him ready.

"Is that the reason you have been distant?"

Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face and only heard the snort she emitted. "I'm sorry to tell you Master, but even though my duty is to serve you, my personal life does not revolve around you. I decided that the risk was too much to take, for not receiving anything back. And as I told you before, I know my presence was not missed as you enjoyed your free time quite well," she shrugged.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "So, you want something back? Are you seeking gold and power like all those other women?"

He saw how her shoulders went up and down as she took a deep breath before turning to face him. The air was caught in Draco's throat. Her eyes were blazing with fire, a powerful will that invaded her soul.

"You offend me deeply with your words, Master. I thought that after a year of being under your command you would know that I am not, in fact, like the other women. I do not seek a price to impress others. I just know what I want and how to play my cards to get it," she took slow steps toward him. Draco could sense the thick, dangerous aura around her and his blood began to heat up.

Grabbing her by the chin, he pulled her towards him. He expected her to fight, but she gave in to his harsh move.

"Tell me what you want."

His face was just a breath away from hers. Golden eyes were staring into his silver eyes and a wicked smile turned her lips.

"Are you so desperate to have me, Master?" she whispered, her seductive voice thick with anticipation and greed.

"Don't play games with me woman," he warned.

Draco leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her face away, smirking. Without moving her face, she spied him from the corner of her eye.

"I am not playing games, Master. You want something from me and I want something from you. But I can't tell you what I want, as you would never understand my words without seeing it with your own eyes. Also, you must understand why I can't let you kiss me, as your wife is waiting for you behind that door," Hermione nodded towards the closed mahogany door. Gently she pushed him, until he was pressed against the door. With a swift move she was out of his grasp. "Now it's time for you to execute your duties, Master. When you are ready to see what I have to show you, let me know." She bowed, almost mockingly, before disappearing behind a servant's door.

* * *

The torches were flaming, illuminating the Place of Arms. The steel sword tightly held in her right hand, beautiful as the other swords hanging from the wall. She was pacing up and down the room, waiting. The fire of the torches flickering, and she angled the blade, so the light reflected on the polished steel.

She came to stand in front of the dusty mirror. She didn't look like _Lady Hermione._ She looked just like Hermione. A small smile curved her lips as she took in the sight of the woman in the reflection. Her usually so ladylike hair was tied back. Wearing trousers, a too-big long-sleeved shirt and boots, she looked like the heroines of the epic stories hidden in the library. They were not ladies that waited for a man to save them, they saved themselves, and Hermione was ready to do just that. She would not surrender to her feelings and she would prove them wrong. All of them. She would prove them that she was a servant by choice, not by bond. That she had many other things to offer. That her wisdom and strength were not to be underestimated.

The old wooden door creaked open, and a platinum blond head caught her attention. She turned to face her Master and his eyes widened in surprise, his mouth slightly open.

"What's going on, Hermione?" he closed the door behind him, but didn't step forward.

"Grab a sword," she pointed to the wall next to him, where a dozen swords were lined.

"I won't. It's not proper," he shook his head.

"I didn't ask if it was proper. I told you to grab a sword," she said annoyed. "Do it!" She commanded.

Draco grabbed a sword, testing its weight. He walked over to her in a predatory way, not sure what to expect.

"I want to show you before I ask for your favor, Master."

She raised her hand, positioning the blade indicating a challenge. His gray eyes looked at her in disbelief.

"Is this what you've been doing? Playing with swords and dressing like a man? Are you out of your mind? I'll pretend I didn't see this and forget to punish you for going against your duties," Draco shook his head, and turned on his heel ready to leave the room.

Rage invaded her veins, turning her blood to boiling point.

He was one of them. He believed that she was a porcelain doll meant to be admired. That her sole purpose in life was to serve men, smile and look pretty. That she was waiting for someone to save them. That she was one of the many women they could walk over without glancing back. But she was not.

With a swift move of her sword Hermione disarmed her Master, before he could take a step further.

He turned to face her, shook and anger twisting his handsome face.

"You will not leave after I'm done. You will listen to what I have to say. And if after this your wish is to kill me, so be it. But do it with your own hands, don't pass the duty to some of the soldiers," the authority and confidence in her voice surprised her. This was not her voice. It was the voice of her soul.

Her Master rolled his eyes and picked the sword up. He angled the blade, but the arrogant vibe around him told Hermione that he wasn't taking her seriously. He made the first move, lazily, and with a step and a sharp move of her arm he disarmed him, again. He narrowed his eyes.

Hermione smiled mockingly. "Don't have mercy. Or are you afraid of a woman?"

He picked the sword again, and this time he held it firmly, and moved towards her planning on attacking her. He was sure that a strong strike would be enough to end with this little fantasy of hers.

Hermione remembered everything Sirius had taught her. _The blade is an extension of your arm, your moves must coordinate with it._ She took a step closer to her Master. _Never let your fragile points uncovered._ Her Master moved his sword, and she avoided it, the sound of steel clashing together echoed in the room. _Find your opponent's weak point._ Small grunts left their lips as they fought, the swords moving around as they tried to attack each other. _Don't let your moves be predictable, aim for the left and attack from the right._ Soon she was the one leading the encounter, her Master couldn't handle her swift, quick and unforeseen moves and was just trying to keep up with her. She cornered him, each one of his moves were blocked by her as she attacked him again. _Have no mercy, win._

With a swift move, she made him fall back, the sword falling a few feet from him. She pressed the point of the blade to his throat and smiled. He was staring angrily at her.

"I know it is forbidden for Ladies to fight. But I want your permission. I want to learn how to fight and be able to help in the front."

He shook his blond head. "I don't know who brainwashed you into this, but I will not allow it."

"No one brainwashed me! _This_ is who I am!" she yelled and pressed the blade a little harder against his skin. "I am not a lady! I don't want to sit around and wait! I want to do things by my own hand!"

"You are out of your mind, Hermione! No lady fights! No lady holds a sword!"

"Then let me be the first!"

She felt the wrath coming from every pore of her body, numbing her.

"I want to learn how to fight. I know I'm not the best, but I can improve. I want to march at the front with the General."

Draco closed his eyes. "Even if I let you train, I would never allow you to fight in the front like a simple soldier."

"Then let me useful in another way, but let me be. Don't cage me. Don't make of me what I am not."

He opened his eyes, staring at her. He placed his hand carefully around the sword that was just an inch away of taking away his life. A million emotions passed through his pewter irises. The exasperation in his voice was almost palpable. "And what do I gain from this? What benefit do I receive from this crazy idea of yours?"

Hermione took a deep breath and kneeled in front of him, her tight grip never leaving the sword.

The word left her lips like a hopeless breath. "Me."

They stayed in silence for what seemed hours. Just staring at each other in the dim light from the torches. Their breath slowly calming down after the tension of the previous events. Thoughts were running in her brain. Was he going to accept her offer? Was he going to send her back to the kitchen? Maybe he would kill her? What would happen if he accused her of being a rebel?

Draco slowly nodded, and Hermione dropped the sword. But before her brain could calm down, he pushed her down, pinning her to the floor and suddenly captured her lips in his, in an angry kiss.

He was kissing her with such violence and lust that it seemed that he wanted to hurt her. But Hermione was not staying behind, returning the kiss with the same strength, biting his lips, scratching every surface of his skin that her hands could reach. His fingers pressed so hard into her skin that bruises were quick to appear.

So many mixed feelings could be felt in the roughness of the kiss. They fought for dominance, their teeth drawing blood out of every inch of skin they grabbed. His hands tore apart the fabric of her clothes, pulling out her boots. In seconds she was laying naked over the cold stone floor. And he was quick to strip out of his clothes.

Their hands traveled up and down each other bodies. Nails scratching the skin. Teeth biting, lips kissing tongues licking. They were a mess of sweat, saliva and droplets of blood, rolling around the floor.

His hands found her legs, gripping them so she was open for him. But she was not going to lay under him like a submissive girl. She pushed him, grabbing his wrists. "No!"

With a quick move Hermione turned them around, holding his hands at the sides of his head, so she was on top of her. Her legs, positioned at the side of his hips, didn't let him move. Slowly she lowered herself into him.

He moaned, throwing his head back, as she rolled her hips. The new sensation was overwhelming. He always took the lead. But not tonight. It was her turn to make him moan her name. Hermione clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into his pale skin, as she moved up and down, up and down, again and again. Her breasts bounced with each of her thrusts. She leaned over to nibble on his neck, just over his pulse point. His snow skin quickly showed the trail of bruises left behind her love bites.

His right hand found her breast, she moaned loudly when he clenched it with no mercy, as his left hand squeezed her rear, guiding her moves.

"Say my name," she licked his neck, blowing cold air. She smirked when he shivered, but only responded with a groan.

She tensed her inner muscles with every new thrust. His eyes rolled back, his face showing pure ecstasy, as a low moan left his lips.

"Say. My. Name," she demanded, rolling her hips.

"Hermione!" he shouted as he found his release. She bit into his shoulder, trying to suppress the moan escaping her lips. Hot thick liquid filled her. Her arms gave out, and Hermione plopped down, falling into his chest. She could feel his erratic breath and his heart racing.

* * *

A/N: YESSSS finally we are getting to the best part of the story... but don't get all fussy because this is just the beginning! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR 3

HELLO everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful week! Thanks for all the likes and reviews 3 feel free to message me if you want to discuss something further :)

Some of you have actually asked me to have an upload schedule and I swear I'm trying my best to post a chapter between thursday and saturday, but I can't promise anything because uni always brings more and more stuff my way. (I almost got intoxicated in chem lab, btw.) But I promise I'll do my best to post in these days.

I Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll be reading your reviews. Until next week!


	7. Chapter 7

Draco frowned, pursing his lips. His uncle was sprawled inelegantly over the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He took a long sip, ignoring Draco, and just got comfortable. The bond Prince was pulling his hair out, pacing up and down the Solar room. He had nothing to rely on. His wife was a dry, obnoxious bitch that only cared for gossip and lying in bed with her was dreadful. At his wedding night, Draco realized how he had signed for doom, as Astoria just lay there, not moving not making a sound, just waiting.

And right now, his most loyal servant was training outside, in the woods, with Lieutenant Weasley, who seemed to enjoy training with a woman far too much. Apparently, Draco was not the only one infected with the addiction to her skin, as he noticed the redhead Lieutenant brushed his hands against her body at any opportunity he saw, claiming to be correcting her posture and what not.

War was coming, and his father didn't believe the red signs, preventing them from planning out tactics and getting ready. Draco was going crazy, insane. He couldn't stand another tea party with shallow conversation, another night with his wife, another useless meeting with his father trying to persuade him to prepare before the Longbottoms had time to attack. And watching Potter wander in the shadows around the castle had him on his last nerve.

He could no longer trust anyone. Papers filled with plans, tactics and maps had gone missing. Draco could swear he felt the devil breathing down his neck, waiting for the right moment to attack.

The deep sound of his uncle chuckling reached his ears, and he couldn't help but turn to glare at him. "Draco, nephew, I think you are overreacting. Calm down, tomorrow at dawn we'll head west."

"You think I'm overreacting, uncle? Well, I think you are over-drinking!" the young man replied, irked.

"Yes, certainly," Sirius stood up and poured himself another drink, ignoring the fact that his nephew was just a breath away from madness and that he had downed half the bottle, and it was barely noon. Taking the glass to his lips, he continued. "I think, that the fact that your best pal has an heir and your beautiful wife is yet to be pregnant has you in a… frenzy."

Draco stood there shocked. Indeed, Theo had welcomed a child the day before, a boy, an heir. It just seemed so natural to him, everything in perfect timing. But _of course,_ Draco had to be the friend with the bad luck. The one with the boring wife. The one with no heir. There was no one to take the throne if he were to die, if the war did happen.

"But then again, it would be much easier to produce an heir if you weren't so keen on drooling over a nice lady like an eleven-year-old," the dark-haired man muffled a laugh against his glass, returning to the sofa.

He straightened his back out of habit, as his stone façade took over his features. "I think you are implying things that are not true, uncle."

"Oh, please!" rolling his eyes, his uncle stood up -again- and grabbed him by the shoulders. His strong, raw, hands pushed him towards the back window, where the forest stood, ancient trees blocking his view. "I know, for a fact my dear nephew, that you like a certain rare flower of this vast garden. Do you think I'm stupid? Who on earth would believe you pathetic reasons? Telling everyone you need help on the front. What, are you training her to seduce the enemy? Pathetic. I'm aware that she has you wrapped around her finger."

Draco just scoffed and shoved him off, clenching his jaw to stop the knot forming in his gut.

"I don't have time for this. They'll be waiting for us. War may not be yet declared, but it doesn't mean it isn't upon us."

He approached the desk, shoving away the papers covering the map. Sirius sighed behind him.

"Just tell me what you are thinking, nephew."

"I am… I'm thinking about our Legion. I want the best with me. We used to be the most powerful army on this side of the sea, and we've let our wards down. But I will not tolerate that no more."

"But, nephew…"

Draco grabbed the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white. He shook his head with his eyes shut.

"NO!" he spat, slamming his fist. "If my father is not willing to do something about this, then I will. I refuse to see _my_ Kingdom succumb under the Longbottoms."

Sirius didn't dare to speak. Panting, the Prince turned to face the General. His young, handsome face was twisted with power, longing for enemy's blood and anger. His veins were pulsing, hot blood rushing through his body, his muscles tensed.

"I want the best soldiers. The ones with no soul. The ones that do not spear a life. The Legion will be as before. I want them ready to go tomorrow. I don't care if you must force boys to enlist," a wicked smirk turned his pale lips, and for the first time Sirius feared his nephew. "I bet none of them want to see their mothers and sisters raped by Deneb's soldiers."

The General placed his glass down, staring at the darkness in the gray irises in front of him. The weight of the crown had turned Draco quickly into a man and the care for his people transformed into a vicious necessity of keeping them safe. The innocence of the boy that once was had emptied the body of the twenty-year-old Prince.

"I want the noticed read at the central plaza. And I hope to see a line of men waiting outside the castle to get ready."

The old man pursed his lips but didn't attempt to change his nephews view. Draco heard how the door closed behind him. Piece by piece he tore apart a letter from the Consul of one of the western provinces, asking for aid, as Deneb's soldiers were in town. Apparently, they'd _just stopped by_ after a long travel to rest, but Draco was not stupid. He knew they were just waiting for a command to begin their destruction.

He rested his forehead against the window, the hot glass scorching against his pale skin. But his eyes caught sight of a certain _rare flower_ emerging from the woods. Her hair pulled back, her hand dragging a sword, the sharp tip opening the earth, leaving a trail behind.

* * *

It was even before sunset, the sky turning a deep shade of red, a hundred young men were queued on the archery butt, waiting for their turn to prove they were worthy of being in the army. Hermione just stared out of the window of one of the hallways. The tea was getting cold sitting there in the tray on her hands. But she couldn't move. She was hypnotized by the sight of arrows flying and swords clashing together.

"So, you are leaving tomorrow," a tired, sad voice whispered next to her, and Hermione's breath hitched as she jumped back, almost dropping the silver tray.

She turned and stumbled upon a pair of green eyes. Guilt twisted her gut and she looked away. Bravery left her body, she felt like a child once more.

"Nini…" the word left her lips as a whispered plea.

The old woman shook her head slowly. Eirene's green eyes stared out of the window, watching as young men fought on the field. Her gray hair was pulled back in an elegant knot, her posture straight as ever, but her eyes were sad. Sad as the lonely woods. Sad as the calm ocean on Autumn.

"I was going to tell you tonight. I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye—"

Her wrinkled hand went up, squeezing Hermione's shoulder.

"You don't have to say anything. It was my fault," she smiled weakly. "I tried to tame your soul, but you can't tame fire without burning yourself."

Hermione clenched her eyes, trying not to cry. A huge lump was forming in her throat, and the air was fighting to reach her lungs.

"I refused to believe the whispers down-stairs, thought I had done a good job guiding you on the good path. But maybe that was not your path at all."

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to clean it and soon another followed.

"What they say… it's true," Hermione muttered. She felt the hot blush creeping up her neck, guilt and shame making her sick.

Eirene just gave her shoulder another squeeze.

"We both knew that you were not made for this life. You were not born to be held captive in a castle. You are as wild as the daisies that cover the fields in spring and as free as the cold winter air."

They stood by the window for a few minutes, not making a sound. Hermione was biting her lower lip, almost to the point of bleeding. It was obvious that some people were suspicious about what happened behind the closed doors of the Prince's chambers, even more now that everyone was waiting for an heir. Both, _Draco_ and her, had been careless, not even bothering to cover for their indiscretions. Of course, Eirene had heard gossip that concerned Hermione. Ladies were always waiting to grab on something juicy. But what made her wish one of the arrows went through her head in that moment, was that no matter how she hated gossip, she could not deny it. She was guilty of everything they were saying. She was guilty of warming a married man's bed.

"Are you angry?"

"No, I am not. I'm just… disappointed. I believed you would be better than your instincts," Eirene forced her to turn. "Just be careful. A mother would never recover after witnessing the execution of her only daughter."

Hermione felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs, as if blood had been drained from her body. _Daughter._ The green-eyed woman took the tray from Hermione's hand, and turned on her heels, walking towards the Queen's chambers.

* * *

"What's this!" King Lucius demanded, throwing the notice that was plastered all around Civitas to Draco. The young Prince didn't bother to turn to acknowledge his father. "You can't take decisions without consulting me. I am the King!"

"Well, father, you'll be surprised at how many people from the Court agree with me. They expressed their concerns at the meeting we had half an hour ago."

"You can't hold meetings that concern the Kingdom and its people without the King!"

"I can, and I did."

The blond prince looked up, emotionless, to stare into his father's eyes. Once, his father's cold eyes had terrified him. Lucius had been able to control him with one stare, putting at bay any behavior he didn't consider right. Draco had been an obedient child, always doing what he was told, never questioning his duties. But he was no longer a child. His preparation for the throne had been completed years ago, and now it was only a matter of time for him to go up the stairs and rule Aerglo. He was not power hungry, but he would not follow commands he didn't believe in, either.

"Draco, I am the ruler. You do as I say. Don't you realize you've risen panic around our streets? How do you think our people feel after you've told them that we are at war, when in fact no threat has been said or done?"

Draco clenched his jaw, placing his hands flat on the desk and slowly raising up, his eyes never leaving his father's. "If you are going to wait for a _threat_ to protect your Kingdom, then you'll meet with our streets bathed with innocent's blood." He took a couple of slow steps around the desk, approaching his father. "I will not wait for our women to be raped and children to be murdered to act. I will do what I see fit to protect my people. And if I must sit on a throne to do so, then let it be. I will not hesitate to assume my future duty early to protect Aerglo."

The words lingered in the air, the implications very clear. Draco could not be King unless the position was available, and Lucius knew that his son was talking seriously. That his son was no longer afraid of him, and that his blood ran ice cold through his veins.

"You are going mad."

"No, father. I just know what I want and how to achieve it."

Grabbing his sword and the papers on the desk, Draco left the room with the intention of going straight to his uncle's study.

* * *

The sun wasn't even up yet, but the soft noise of feet going around the grounds could be heard. In less than an hour they would be marching to face the enemy.

Hermione stood up in front of the mirror, the light of the few candles reflecting her image. The delicate, long dresses were gone, and now she stood wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, trousers and leather, knee-high boots. Her hair was tied back, but no longer reached her waist. She had pulled out a dagger and ran the blade through her hair. Caramel locks fell around her, but she didn't regret anything. Now, her hair was barely past her shoulders.

Her armor was placed on top of the wooden table, waiting to be laid on her body. She ran her fingers over the cold metal, tracing the pattern of the Malfoy Coat of Arms. A shiver ran down her spine, the anticipation running in her veins.

The door creaked open, a low voice greeted her. "Ready, my little flower?"

Hermione turned to face General Sirius and softly nodded.

"I thought," the old man continued, closing the door behind him as he entered the room, "that you may need something to fit you better."

He unsheathed a sword, offering it to her. Hermione curled her fingers around the handle, gripping it into her hand. It was lighter than the swords she used for training. The blade was thinner and more elongated, more _feminine_. Softly, she brushed the sharp edge with her finger. She raised her brows at the sharpness of the blade. A thin, sharp blade would divide anything, or anyone, with a swift move. Her hand moved the sword around, and it felt like an extension of her arm, made just for her. Her eyes caught the engraved metal at the bottom of the blade. A wild daisy.

"Thanks," she whispered breathlessly, looking up to her General.

He showed her a fatherly smile. "A great warrior needs a great sword."

A warm emotion spread in her chest and she threw her arms around his shoulders. The General stood there, without moving, and just after a few seconds passed he patted her shoulder softly.

"Now, I'll be waiting for you at the gate. Don't forget that we will be riding side by side."

He opened the door, letting Ginny in, and with a last glance he left the ladies alone.

"You should see the chaos upstairs," the redhead said as she helped Hermione put the pauldron on. "Everyone's taking sides. Accusing the Prince of going mad and wanting to take over the throne. Others accuse King Lucius of being careless of Aerglo."

Hermione felt the metal on her body as Ginny clipped the armor together. "But it seems you chose your side, even before this started."

"I've sworn loyalty, Ginny," Hermione pointed out, adjusting the plackart over her chest.

"You've sworn to serve him here. Not to follow him to the front lines."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Loyalty is anywhere you are. You can't be loyal here and not outside the kingdom. If _he_ needs me in the front, so be it."

"You should tell that to Lord Potter," Ginny shrugged, and Hermione turned to face her.

"What did you just say?"

"That you should tell Potter about your concept of loyalty," the pale lady rolled her eyes. "He cares only for the King and prevents the Prince from getting too close to his father. I've seen him going around the Prince's old chambers and into the private part of the library many times. I bet he'll do anything to keep the Prince from taking the crown before his father dies."

Hermione didn't reply to this. Instead she adjusted her sword belt and gave her friend a long good-bye hug before heading to the gates.

* * *

They had been on the road all day, marching as the sound of the sound of their feet against the hard earth filling the air. The harsh summer sun was finally settling down, tinting the sky a deep blood red.

"I think we should camp tonight. We'll arrive to the Province tomorrow after midday. Fighting the enemy at night is never a good idea, and now we have new soldiers that are still not used to complex tactics. We need to inform them how we'll proceed before we throw them into the _lion_ 's mouth."

As always, Theo was right. He had not seen his uncle Sirius in all day, as he was marching in the front with the younger soldiers. If Draco was honest to himself, he was feeling anxious. After all, this was the first time he was leading the legion on his own, without his father's support. But maybe this was the way things needed to be done, and he prayed to every god to let him be right about his decision of going against his father.

The bond Prince turned to face Lord Nott and nodded. His friend quickly sent an armorer to inform the General.

He heard orders being shouted, and soon the tents were erected, and the campfires started as soldiers began to get ready before the dark night fell. Draco got off his horse, splashing some of the fresh water that was offered to him in his face. The main tent was ready for the first meeting, before everyone headed to sleep. The red sky was turning darker by the minute. Eyeing the thick forest around them, he knew they would have to stand watch for the night. After all, they could expect the enemy to be hiding in between the trees.

"I was worried, you know, son. I actually thought you will lead these inexperienced soldiers towards the enemy on a moonless night," Draco heard the low voice of his uncle behind him, chuckling. The sound of hoofbeats made the Prince roll his eyes.

"My-my, don't we have our own amazon," whispered Theo next to him, elbowing Draco on the ribs.

Frowning, he turned to see what Theo was mumbling about.

Sitting on top of a black horse was a woman that surely could've fought along the amazons in an old legend. She was not ridding the delicate way ladies did, but with each of her legs on a side of the horse, holding firmly to the saddle. Her skin was glowing gold, after spending so many hours under the sun. Brown locks pulled back, away from her face, which gave him a better look of her features. Freckles over the nose, full red lips and a pair of golden eyes, strong as steel and wild as the fire. Her armor was not silver, like the color that represented his kingdom, but a soft golden copper. The Malfoy Coat of Arms engraved on her chest, glowing proud with the last sun rays.

Hermione got off the horse with a swift move. "I'll do the rounds with the young boys," she informed Sirius, who just smiled, before she marched to the far end of the campsite.

For the next two and a half hours, Draco sat in front his uncle, Theo and a couple Lieutenants discussing which was the way to confront Deneb's soldiers. But, as his father once said, no war had happened since he was crowned, no one knew how the Longbottoms managed their legions. The only one that had an idea was Sirius, who fought against them when he was barely twenty. But tactics changed through the years and they were facing the unknown.

"As no war is officially declared," Sirius spoke, refilling his cup with Whiskey, "if they do fight us when we arrive, we'll get a full glance to their way of fighting. They are not waiting for us, they don't have a second plan. But we shouldn't give them the same advantage. We'll use the Kings tactics first, to fool them about the way our Legions move. Only if necessary, we will implement our new plan."

A mix of words of approval left everyone's lips.

"I just have a last question before we conclude," Lieutenant Lupin, his cousin's husband, spoke. "What about the girl? To which rank does she belong? Will she be in the front line with the Auxiliaries, or will she stay back with the more experimented soldiers?"

"None," Draco was quick to respond, and everyone turned to see him, curious about his reaction.

Sirius shook his head. "What my nephew means, is that she is a _special_ soldier. Our ace under the sleeve. She only takes orders from me or the Prince himself, but don't worry, as she's not allowed to give orders to anyone. No one had the obligation to follow her command, not even the Auxiliaries. If they do, it'll be because of their desire to do so."

"I still don't understand why you brought a woman to such an important mission," Lupin frowned, and Draco clenched his jaw.

"I'm afraid you won't understand that until you see her handling a sword. I've never seen such swift and clean moves. After all, no man, not even the enemy, can resist a true beauty."

The words lingered in the air and the men laughed. Draco felt his stomach flip at the thought of offering Hermione to the enemy, like a candy, to win war. He started to regret his decision. Allowing her to come was crazy. She would be the prey of hungry men, and they will drag her away from him alive. A dead woman would not serve their wicked purposes, or maybe they were even more wicked than he'd imagined. The imagine of a man forcing his way into her as she screamed for help made him shiver.

* * *

"What are you doing?" his voice came out huskier than he imagined.

She snorted, annoyed, but didn't turn to face him. "It's my turn to do the watch."

Her tone stated as if it was the most obvious thing.

"You are not a soldier. You are not supposed to have _turns_."

Hermione turned to face him, her caramel eye glaring at him with anger.

"I offered to take tonight's shift, if you don't mind _Master._ "

Draco narrowed his eyes, staring at her intently. She was not supposed to be a soldier, but boy he knew she was molded for that role better than many of the men sleeping in the tents. A wave of hot summer night air blew between them and he was engulfed in her fresh lavender smell. The same smell that had lingered in his bed when he woke up in the morning. The same smell that peaked around the corners of his library.

For the last two weeks he had hardly seen her outside of her main duties as Lady-in-waiting. Sirius usually took her to the grounds in her free time to train her. And standing there, in the darkest of nights, so close to her made Draco realize how much he had actually missed her. Not because his mother was breathing down his neck. Not because Astoria was as warm in bed as the winter snow. Not because he was low key jealous of Theo. Not because he was sick and tired of his father's stupid decisions. But because he missed _Hermione_. He missed the way she would run her finger through his hair, the way she would kiss him with such passion and fire, the way he felt so at peace when he was with her.

Stepping closer to her, he lifted his right hand to cup her cheek. But before his skin could feel hers, Hermione stepped back. She looked around, making sure no one had seen their actions.

"You shouldn't do that in public. Your wife's cousins are here, I really don't want to face another lashing," she whispered, her eyes finding his in the dark. Her soul was not burning, it was a faint flicker of light behind her chocolate irises.

"You know that I have forbidden Astoria to command punishments without consulting me first," he frowned.

"I know. But don't you think everyone thinks it's weird?" she whispered harshly. "You have been making excuses for _us_ to happen. Keeping me as you Lady, banning anyone to order me, forbidding them from punishing me, allowing me to come with you."

"Do you want to be lashed every other day? Is that what you want?" Draco half whispered, half yelled while throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No! Of course not," closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "I'm very thankful for everything you've done for me. You don't know… you don't know everyone knows. Even Eirene."

A sad laugh escaped her lips, and she shook in her armor, pretending to adjust it. She placed her right hand over the handle of her sword, tracing the flower engraved on the metal. She stepped closer to him, tilting her head up, so she could see him properly over their height difference.

"They know. I know one day my body will be hanging from the central plaza, in the middle of the town. They'll probably say I were to be executed because of theft."

"They can't do that. They can't prove nothing, and no one can hurt you without my permission."

"It's different now!"

She turned, clutching her head between her hands. The grass crunched beneath her feet as she paced up and down. Draco stood there, watching her, hoping that no prying eyes were watching them. Finally, she let a long breath and straightening her back, she turned to face him once again.

"Look, I was not supposed to tell you this. Astoria is pregnant. The physician told her two days ago. Tomorrow a letter will arrive telling you the news, she wanted to do it 'in a romantic way that got you excited to go back'. I'm sorry for telling you, but it's different now. You'll have an heir Draco, you could claim the throne before your father dies. And you know no lover of any king has survived to tell the story. It's too risky for the crown."

Draco felt like no air was reaching his lungs, like when you are drowning and you only gasp at the painful sensation of water filling your lungs. He just stared at the rare flower in front of him. Her face trying to stay firm, but the fear was clear in her weak smile.

"You called me by my name. You called me Draco."

The words were out of his lips before he realized. She looked away, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her lower lip.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, before turning and walking away from him, closer to the edge of the forest.

* * *

Hermione was right. First thing in the morning, before most of the soldiers were up an envelope addressed to him came. He did not dare to open it. The envelope was pushed down his bag.

He was mad at himself. Draco felt angry for not feeling the relief (or excitement) he expected to feel when Astoria would finally get pregnant. No, he didn't feel anything good. He just felt that this was another nail embedding the crown more to his head. Another barrier keeping him away from Hermione.

During the morning as they marched towards the province, he felt the air getting thicker. The sun burning his skin. His uncle riding on his left, Theo on his right. Astoria's cousins before them. Hermione on the front lines guiding the younger soldiers, following her every command.

They had been mesmerized, like everyone else, not only by her beauty but by the way she handled the sword. They had seen her and Sirius training just as the first rays of the sun brightened the horizon, and her skillful right hand showed them that she had been born to hold the blade. Now they imitated her moves and listening to everything she had to say. On top of that, they respected her as rumors of her being the daughter of the General were going around. Sirius just chuckled when hearing what speculations soldiers had about the only woman on the Legion, but had made no effort in stopping the nonsense. Instead, he just played along referring to Hermione as his daughter to anyone that asked.

Sirius whistled, and the soldiers stopped abruptly. Moving aside, the men allowed the Prince to make his way to the front lines, Sirius, Theo and others just on his heel. Hermione guided her horse to line up with them, standing beside Sirius.

Before them, the General of Deneb's Legion stood proudly on his horse. His gold and red armor shining under the sun. His soldiers appeared to be calm, but no Legion would be calm if they were facing the enemy. Draco could almost _taste_ the wrath on the air, their desire of blood, of winning.

"Greetings, your Royal Highness," the General smirked, bowing his head mockingly.

"Greetings, General," Draco said, proudly.

"What brings his Majesty to these lands, so far away from home."

Draco raised a pale brow, his icy eyes staring at the black ones before him.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question? I think you are a little lost, General. You see these lands belong to Aerglo, not Deneb. I can only wonder what you and your men are doing in _my_ Province."

The Deneb's General glared at him, and Draco saw how the soldiers behind him shifted in their positions.

"We are only passing. We've just returned from far away and needed to restock our supplies before heading on the long way home," his dark eyes shifted briefly towards Hermione, as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Then I recommend you to get going, as I'm sure your King is worried about his soldiers."

"Will be back home, after we finish our duties."

His hand grabbed the gold handle of his sword, dragging it out. But before the General could give a swing on Draco's direction the sharp sound of a blade cutting the air reached his ears, and soon Hermione's sword had chopped off the man's arm.

It only took a second for the army to attack, swords crashing against another, horses going forward, men facing the enemy. Thick, red liquid quickly tinted the earth, as men fell, their lives leaving their bodies.

Draco saw soldiers dressed in red, running towards him. With his left hand clutching the reins and his right hand handling the sword, he cut a man in half around the waist before beheading another.

"Watch out!" Theo yelled as he stabbed a man, while attempting to approach Draco.

The bold Prince jumped off the horse, swinging his sword at any men dressed in red that approached him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius and Lupin racing in their horses, knocking the enemy out. Their swords shining red with blood.

The sound of grunts and moans, as bodies hitting the ground and swords clashed together was overwhelming. The air smelled like earth, sweat and blood. He could feel the droplets of the red liquid that had splashed his face.

A horse ran past him, almost knocking him. As he looked up from his now dead victim, he realized that no one was riding it. His gut clenched as he realized the copper colored buckle on the saddle. He pushed a Deneb's soldier, before stabbing him directly into the heart, as he ran towards the direction the horse had come.

Hermione was not riding her horse and no were to me seen.

He ran deliriously, trying to spot her between the men battling and the men laying dead on the ground. His mind rushing, his pupils dilated. Was she dead? Did she finally perish under the sword of the enemy? Was she laying cold on the ground, under the burning sun?

 _I knew letting her come, letting her fight was a bad idea,_ his own voice screamed in his mind. He had let his rare flower come willingly to die in the enemy's arms. His flower that had slowly blossomed in the castle's grounds, surrounded by vines and weeds. The picture of her body on a pool of blood, her pretty face wounded and her fire eyes dead, clouded his mind.

Hermine was _his_ flower. Even though her fire soul would never allow him to possess her. Even though he was not allowed to care for her. Even though he was being selfish by risking her life in order to spend one moment with her. Even though he had duties to his Kingdom that forbid him from wanting her so bad. Even though the gods were mad at him for breaking every rule he should've followed. Even though that, Hermione was his. Not because she wanted to be his. But because he loved her.

He had fallen for the quiet girl with the fire soul. The bright mind that wanted to fight. He had fallen for her taste, her soft skin and the way she seemed to complement him whenever they were alone. Because even if she didn't understand what troubled his mind, she embraced him with her soul giving him the peace he needed. Because she was the only one that truly cared for him and not what he represented. She was the only one that stuck by his side during bright and stormy days.

His gray eyes found his precious flower, laying on the ground, a soldier dressed in red holding her down. Blood dripping from the open wound just above her brow. Her caramel hair wild as she struggled to get the man off from her. The man just grabbed a dagger and raised it on the air, aiming at her heart. Her face was wild, fear and anger twisting her features.

Draco started to run, his body burning, trying to get to them before it was too late.

* * *

A/N: HELLOOOO! Plz don´t kill me for leaving you at a cliff hanger. Thanks for all you reviews, likes and follows. This is story is for you! I write this so you can indulge a little after a long day 3.

I know I took forever to update but I had exams (failed one miserably and got high marks on another so not really sure how do I feel), had a car crash (I just had a bad bruise but it hurt A. LOT.), and just had a lot to do at uni. So sorry for taking so long, but I hope you liked it.

I read ALLLLLL your reviews but I actually feel like a creep sending you a message to thank you, (so if you want to chat just tell me plz because I would like to chat with you guys).

 _ **PLEASE DON'T LOSE YOUR HOPES ON ME, I SWEAR I'M TRYING MY BEST TO UPDATE. Love u! Hope you have a wonderful day/week/month/life and hope to read you on next chapter! bye :)**_


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